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Smith, Adam, 1723-1790.
Theory of moral sentiments, or. An essay
towards an analysis of Ihe principles by vvl
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THE
THEORY
O F
MORAL SENTIMENTS;
O R,
AN ESSAY
TOWARDS
An Analysis of the Principles by which Men naturally
judge concerning the Conduct and Character, firft of
their Neighbours, and afterwards of themselves.
TO WHICH IS ADDED,
A DISSERTATION
ON THE
ORIGIN of LANGUAGES.
7
By ADAM S M I T H, L. L. D. F. R. S.
Formerly Profeflbr of Philofophy in the Univerfity of Glafgow } and Auther
of the Nature and Caufe of the Wealth of Nations.
THE SIXTH EDITION.
DUBLIN:
Printed for J. Beatty and C. Jackson, No. 32, Skinner«Row,
M,DCC,LXXVII.
CONTENTS.
o
PART L
F the Propriety of Action,
SECTION I.
Of thefenfeof propriety Page i.
Chap. I. Of Sympathy ibid.
Chap. II. Of the Pleafure of mutual Sympathy 9
Chap. III. Of the manner in which we judge of the
propriety or impropriety of the affeclions of other
men, by their concord or diffonance with our own 14;
Chap. IV. ^he fame fubj eel continued 19
Chap. V. Of the amiable and refpeclable virtues 27
SECTION II.
Of the degrees of the different pafiions which are
confiftent with propriety 33
Chap. I. Of the pajffions which take their origin from
ihe body 3 4
Chap. II. Of thofe pajftons which take their origin
from a particular turn or habit of the imagination 4 1
a 2 C h a p.
CONTENTS.
Chap. III. Of the unfocial pajfions Page 46
Chap. IV. Of the f octal pajfwns 54.
Ch a p . V. Of the felfijh pajfions 5 8
SECTION III.
Of the effects of profperity and adverfity upon the
judgment of mankind with regard to the propri-
ety of action ; and why it is more eafy to obtain
their approbation in the one ftate than in the
other 46
Chap. I. That though our fympathy with forrow
is generally a more lively fenfation than our fympathy
with joy , it commonly falls much more jhort of the
violence of what is naturally felt by the perfon prin-
cipally concerned. ibid.
Chap. II. Of the origin of ambition, and of the dif-
tintlion of ranks 74
Chap. III. Of the ftoical phihfophy 89
PART II.
Of Merit and Demerit; or of the objefts
of reward and punifhment.
SECTION I.
Of the fenfe of merit and demerit gy
Chap. I. That whatever appears to be the proper ob-
jecl oj gratitude, appears to deferve reward -, and
that, in the fame manner, whatever appears to be the
-proper objecl of refentment, appears to deferve pu*
nijkment 98
CONTENTS.
Chap. II. Of the proper objecls of gratitude and re-
fentment Page 102
Chap. III. That where there is no approbation of the
tonducl of the per/on who confers the benefit l, there is
little fympathy with the gratitude of him who re-
ceives it : and that, on the contrary \ where there is
no difapprobation of the motives of the per/on who
does the mif chief there is no fort of fympathy with
the refentment of him who fuffers it 1 06
Chap. IV. Recapitulation of the foregoing chap-
ters 1 09
Chap. V. The analyfis of the fenfe of merit and
demerit 1 1 2
SECTION II.
Of juftice and beneficence i-^4-
Chap. I. Comparif on of thofe two virtues ibid.
Chap. II. Of the fenfe of juftice, of remorfe, mid of
the confeioufnefs of merit 1 40
Chap. III. Of the utility of this conftitution of na-
ture 133
SECTION III.
Of the influence of fortune upon the fentiments of
mankind, with regard to the merit or demerit of
actions 147
Chap. I. Of the caufes of this influence of for-
tune 148
CONTENT SV
Chap. II. Of the extent of this influence of fortune
Page 154
Chap. III. Of the final caufe of this irregularity of
fentiments 167
PART III,
0 Of the foundation of our judgments con-
cerning our own fentiments and conduct,
and of the fen(6 of duty.
Chap. I. Of the confcioufnefs of merited praife or
blame 1 7 3
Chap. II. In what manner our own judgments refer
to what ought to he the judgments of others; and
of the origin of general rules 180
Chap. III. Of the influence and authority of the
general rules of morality, and that they are juftly
regarded as the laws of the Deity 207
Chap. IV. /;/ what cafes the fenfe of duty ought to bs
the fole principle of our conducl ; and in what cafes
it ought to concur with other motives 223
PART IV.
Of theeffedtof utility upon the fentiments of
approbation ,
Chap. I. Of the beauty which the appearance of
Utility beftows upon all the productions of art, and of the
■ '■':ip!/ive influence of this f pedes of beauty %$7
i*<
CONTENTS.
Chap. II. Of the beauty which the appearance of
utility be/lows upon the char after s and aclions of men \
and how far the perception of this beauty may be re-
garded as one of the original principles of approbation
Page 250
PART V.
Of the influence of cuftom and fafhion
upon the fentiments of moral approbation
and difapprobation.
Chap. I. Of the influence of cuftom and fafhion upon
our notions of beauty and deformity. 261
Chap. II. Of the influence of cuftom and fafhion
upon moral fentiments % 27 1
PART VI.
Of Syftems of Moral Philofophy*
SECTION I.
Of the queftions which ought to be examined in a
theory of moral fentiments 29 1
SECTION II.
Of the different accounts which have been given of
the nature of virtue, 294
Ch a p . I. Of thofe fyftems which make virtue conjifi in
propriety v ?tq7
CONTENTS.
Chap. II. Of thofe fyflems which make virtue con-
fft in prudence Page 3 1 1
Chap. III. Of thofe fyflems which make virtue con-
Jtji in benevolence 321
C h a p . I V. Of licentious fyftems 331
SECTION III.
Of the different fyflems which have been formed
concerning the principle of approbation 34.5
Chap. I. Of thofe fyflems which deduce the principle
of approbation from felf4ove 346
Chap. II. Of thofe fyflems which make reafon the
principle of approbation 351
Chap. III. Of thofe fyflems which make fentiment
the principle of approbation 356
SECTION IV.
Of the manner in which different authors have
treated of the practical rules of morality 367
Confiderations concerning the fir ft formation of languages,
and the different genius of original and compound
languages 389
PART I
Of the PROPRIETY ef ACTION.
Confifting of three Sections.
SECTION I.
Of the Sense of Propriety.
CHAP. 1
Of S Y M P A T H Y.
H
OW felfifti foever man may be fuppofed,
there are evidently fome principles in his nature,
which intereft him in the fortune of others, and ren-
der their happinefs neceiTary to him, though he de-
rives nothing from it, except the pleafure of feeing it.
Of this kind is pity or companion, the emotion which
we feel for the mifery of others, when we either fee
it, or are made to conceive it in a very lively manner.
That we often derive forrow from the forrow t£
ethers, is a matter of fad too obvious to require any
B inftances
2 0/ Propriety. Tart I.
inftances to prove it ; for this fentiment, like all the
other original paflions of human nature, is by no
means confined to the virtuous and humane, though
they perhaps may feel it with the moil exquifite fen-
Ability. The greateft ruffian, the moft hardened
violator of the laws of fociety, is not altogether
without it.
As we have no immediate experience of what
other men feel, we can form no idea of the manner
in which they are afFe&ed, but by conceiving what
we ourfelves mould fell in the like fituation. Though
our brother is upon the rack, as long as we ourfelves
are at our eafe, our fenfes will never inform us of
what he furTers. They never did and never can car-
ry us beyond our own perfon, and it is by the ima-
gination only that we can form any conception of
what are his fenfations. Neither can that faculty
help us to this any other way, than by reprefenting
to us what would be our own, if we were in his cafe.
It is the imprerTions of our own fenfes only, not thofe
of his, which our imaginations copy. By the ima-
gination we place ourfelves in his fituation, we con-
ceive ourfelves enduring all the fame torments, we
enter as it were into his body and become in fome
meafure him, and thence form fome idea of his fenfa-
tions and even feel fomething which, though weaker
in degree, is not altogether unlike them. His agonies,
when they are thus brought home to ourfelves, when
we have thus-adopted and made them our own, be-
gin at laft to affect us, and we then tremble and
fhudder at the thought of what he feels. For as to
be in pain or diftrefs of any kind excites the moft
exceflive forrow, fo to conceive or to imagine that
we are in it, excites fome degree of the fame emo-
tion,
Sect, i, 0/ Propriety. 3
tion, iri proportion to the vivacity of dulnefs of the
conception.
That this is the fource of our fellow-feeling for
~themifery of others, that it is by changing places in
fancy with the fufferer, that we come either to con-
ceive or to be affected by what he feels, may be de-
monflrated by many obvious obfervations, if it
thould not be thought fufficiently evident of itfelh
When we fee a flroke aimed and j uft ready to fall
upon the leg or arm of another perfon, we naturally
ihrink and draw back our own leg or our own arm ;
and when it does fall, we feel it in forne meafure^
and are hurt by it as well as the fufTerer. The mob9
when they are gazing at a dancer on the flack rope,
naturally writhe and twifl and balance their own bo-
dies, as they fee him do, and as they feel that they
themfelves mud do if in his fituation. Perfons of
delicate fibres and a weak conftitution of body,
complain that in looking on the fores and ulcers which
are expofed by beggars in the ftreets, they are apt
to feel an itching or uneafy fenfation in the corre-
fpondent part of their own bodies. The horror
which they conceive at the mifery of thofe wretches
affects that particular part in themfelves more than
any other ; becaufe that horror arifes from conceive
ing what they themfelves would fuffer, if they really
were the wretches whom they are looking upon, and
if that particular part in themfelves was actually af-
fected in the fame miferable manner. The very
force of this conception is fufneient, in their feeble
frames, to produce that itching or uneafy fenfation
complained of. Men of the moll robuft make, ob-
ferve that in looking upon fore eyes they often feel a
very fenfible forenefs in their own, which proceeds
^ B2 from
4 Of Propriety. !Part !/
from the' fame reafon; that organ being in the
ftrongeft man more delicate than any other part or
the body is in the weaken:.
Neither is it thofe circumftances only, which
create pain or forrow, that call forth our fellow-feel-
ing. Whatever is the palfion which arifes from any
object in the perfon principally concerned, an ana-
logous emotion fprings up, at the thought of his fi-
tuation, in the breaft of every attentive fpedtator.
Our joy for the deliverance of thofe heroes of tragedy
or romance who intereft us, is asfincere as our grief
for their diftrefs, and our fellow-feeling with their
mifery is not more real than that with their happinefs.
We enter into their gratitude towards thofe faithful
friends who did not defert them in their difficulties;
and we heartily go along with their refentment againfl
thofe perfidious traitors who injured, abandoned, or
deceived them. In every pailion of which the mind
of man is fufceptible, the emotions of the by-ftander
always correfpond to what, by bringing the cafe
home to himfelf, he imagines, mould be the fenti-^
ments of the fufferer*
Pity and companion are words appropriated to
fignify our fellow-feeling with the forrow of others.
Sympathy, though its meaning was, perhaps, origi-
nally the fame, may now, however, without much
impropriety, be made ufe of to denote our fellow-
feeling with any pailion whatever.
Upon fome occafions fympathy may feem to
arife merely from the view of a certain emotion in
another perfon. ^The paflions, upon fome occafions,
may feem to be transfufed from one man to another,
inftantaneoufly,
Sect. i. Of Propriety,
inftantaneoufly, and anteeedent to any knowledge
of what excited them in the perfon principally con-
cerned. Grief and joy, for example, ftrongly ex-
preflfed in the look and geftures of any one, at once
afTed the fpe&ator with fome degree of a like painful
or agreeable emotion, A mailing face is, to every
body that fees it, a chearful object ; as a forrowful
countenance, on the other hand, is a melancholy
one.
This, however, does not hold univerfally, or with
regard to every paflion. There are fome paflions of
which the expreflions excite no fort of fympathy,
but before we are acquainted with what gave occa-
fion to them, ferve rather to difguil and provoke us
againft them. The furious behaviour of an angry
man is more likely to exafperate us againft himfelf
than againft his enemies. As we are unacquainted
with his provocation, we cannot bring his cafe home
to ourfelves, nor conceive any thing like the paiTions
which it excites. But we plainly fee what is the fi-
tuation of thofe with whom he is angry, and to
what violence they may be expofed from fo enraged
an adverfary. We readily, therefore, fympathize
with their fear or refentment, and are immediately
difpofed to take part againft the man from whom
they appear to be in fo much danger.
If the very appearances of grief and joy infpire us
with fome degree of the like emotions, it is becaufe
they fuggeft to us the general idea of fome good or
bad fortune that has befallen the perfon in whom
we obferve them : and in thefe paiTions this is fuffi-
cient to have fome little influence upon us. The
effects of grief and joy terminate in the perfon wh®
B 3 feet
6 Of P r o p i ; i e t y. Part L
feels thofe emotions, of which the expreflions do
not, like thofe of refentment, fuggell to us the idea
of any other perfon for whom we are concerned,
and whofe interefls are oppofite to his. The general
idea of good or bad fortune, therefore, creates fome
concern for the perfon who has met with it, but the
general idea of provocation excites no fympathy
with the anger of the man who has received it. Na-
ture, it feems, teaches us to be more averfe to enter
into this paflion, and, till informed of its caufe, to be
difpofed rather to take part againfl: it.
Even our fympathy with the grief or joy of ano-
ther, before we are informed of the caufe of either,
is always extremely imperfect. General lamentati-
ons, which exprefs nothing but the anguifh of the
fufferer, create rather a curiofity to inquire into his
fituation, along with fome difpofition to fympathize
with him, than any actual fympathy that is very fen-
fible. The firfl queflion which we alk is, What
has befallen you ? Till this be anfwered, tho' we
are uneafy both from the vague idea of his misfor-
tune, and flill more from torturing ourfelves witlj
conjectures about what it may be, yet our fellow-
feeling is not very confiderable.
Sympathy, therefore, does not arife fo much frorr*
the view of the paflion, as from that of the fituation,
which excites it. We fometimes feel for another,
a paflion of which he himfelf feems to be altogether
incapable j becaufe when we put ourfelves in his
cafe, that paflion arifes in our breaft from the ima-
gination, though it does not in his from the reality.
We blulh for the impudence and rudenefs of ano-
ther, though he himfelf appears to have no fenfe of
the
Sed. x." O/Propriety, 7
the impropriety of his own behaviour ; becaufe v/e
cannot help feeling with what confufion we ourfelves
mould be covered, had we behaved in fo abfurd a
manner.
Of all the calamities to which the condition of
mortality expofes mankind, the lofs of reafon ap-
pears, to thofe who have the leaft fpark of humanity,
by far the moil dreadful, and they behold that laft
flage of human wretchednefs with deeper commi-
ferationthan any other. But the poor wretch, who
is in it, laughs and fings perhaps, and is altogether
infenfible of his own mifery. The anguifti which
humanity feels, therefore, at the fight of fuch an
object, cannot be the refledion of any fentiment of
the fufferer. The companion of the fpedtator
mufl arife altogether from the confideration of what
he himfelf would feel if he was reduced to the fame
unhappy fituation, and, what perhaps is impoffible,
was at the fame time able to regard it with his pre-
fent reafon andjudgment.
J
What are the pangs of a mother when (he hears
the moaningsof her infant that during the agony of
difeafe cannot exprefs what it feels ? In her idea of
what it fuffers, ftie joins, to its real helpleffnefs,
her own confcioufnefs of that helplefmefs, and her
own terrors for the unknown confequences of its
diforder j and out of all thefe, forms, for her own
forrow, the moll complete image of mifery and
diftrefs. The infant, however, feels only the un-
eafinefs of the prefent inftant, which can never be
great. With regard to the future it is perfedlyfe-
cure, and in its^thoughtleffnefs and want of fore-
fight poffeffes an antidote againft fear and anxiety,
b S4 the
* Of P r a p r i e t y. Part t
the great tormentors of the human breaft, from
which reafon and philofophy will in vain at-
tempt to defend it when it grows up to a
man
We fympathize even with the dead, and over-
looking what is of real importance in their Jltuation,
that awful futurity which awaits them, we are
chiefly affefted by thofe circumflances. which flrike
our fenfes, but can have no influence upon their
happinefs. It is miferable, we think, to.be depriv-
ed of the light of the fun • to be (hut out from life
and converfation ; to be laid in the cold grave, a
prey to corruption and the reptiles of the earth ;
to be no more thought of in this world, but to b$
obliterated in a little time from the affections and
almoft from the memory of their deareft frienda
and relations. Surely, we imagine, we can never
feel too much for thofe who have fuffered (o dread-,
ful a calamity. The tribute of our fellow-feeling
ieems doubly due to them now, when they are in,
danger of being forgot by every body ; and, by
the vain honours which we pay to their me-
mory, we endeavour, for our own mifery, ar-
tificially to keep alive our melancholy remem-
brance of their misfortune. That our fym-
pathy can afford them no confolation ieems to be
an addition to their calamity ; and to think that all
we can do is unavailing, and that, what alleviates,
all other diffrefs, the regret, the love, and the la-
mentations of their friends, can yield no comfort to
them, ferves only to exafperate our fenfe of their
mifery. The happinefs of the dead, however, moil
afliiredlv, is affeded by none of thefe circumftances ."
flor is it the though txof the fe things which can ever
djft\{fti
Sed. i. O/Proprietv. $
difturb the profound fecurity of their repofe. The
idea of that dreary and endlefs melancholy, which
the fancy naturally afcribes to their condition, arifes
altogether from our joining to the change which
has been produced upon them, our own confciouf-
nefs of that change, from our putting ourfeives in
their fituation, and from our lodging, if I may be
allowed to fay fo, our own living fouls in their inani-
mated bodies, and thence conceiving what would
be our emotions in this cafe. It is from this very
illufion of the imagination, that the forefight of our
own diffolution is fo terrible to us, and that the idea
of thofe circumftances, which undoubtedly can give
us no pain when we are dead, makes us miferable
while we are alive. And from thence arifes one of
the moil important principles in human nature, the
dread of death, the great poifon to the happinefs,
but the great reftraint upon the injuftice of man-
kind, which, while it affli&s and mortifies the indi-
vidual, guards and proteds the fociety.
CHAP. II.
Of the Pleafure of mutual Sympathy.
.PUT whatever may be the caufe of fympathy,
or however it may be excited, nothing pleafes us
more than to obferve in other men a fellow-feeling
with all the emotions of our own bread • nor are
we ever fo much (hocked as by the appearance of
the contrary. Thofe who are fond of deducing all
pur fentiments from certain refinements of (elf-love,
think
to ©/Propriety.' \ Part fC
think themfelves at no lofs to account, according to
their own principles, both for this pleafure and this
pain. Man, fay they, confcious of his own weak-
nefs and of the need which he has for the afliftance
of others, rejoices whenever he obferves that they
adopt his own pailions, becaufe he is then affured
©f that ailiftance; and grieves whenever he ob-
ferves the contrary, becaufe he is then afTiired of
their oppofition. But both the pleafure and the pain
are always felt fo inftantaneoufly, and often upon
fuch frivolous occafions, that it feems evident that
neither of them can be derived from any fiich felf-
Interefted confideration. A man is mortified when,
after having endeavoured to divert the company, he
looks round and fees that no body laughs at his jefls
Ibuthimfelf. On the contrary, the mirth of the com-
pany is highly agreeable to him, and he regards this
correfpondence of their fentiments with his own as
the greateil applaufe.
Neither does his pleafure feem to arife altogether
from the additional vivacity which his mirth may
leceive from fympathy with theirs, nor his pain
from the disappointment he meets with when he
mines this pleafure ; though both the one and the
other, no doubt, do in fome meafure. When we
have read a book or poem fo often that we can no
longer find any amufement in reading it by our-
felves, we can flill take pleafure in reading it to a
companion. To him it has all the graces of novel-
ty ; we enter into the furprize and admiration which
it naturally excites in him, but which it is.no longer
capable of exciting in us -y we confider all the ideas
which it prefents rather in the light in which they
appear to him, than irvthat in which they appear
to
Seft. i. O/ProHiety, it
to ourfelves, and we are amufed by fympa-
thy with his amufement which thus enlivens our
own. On the contrary, we fhould be vexed if he
did not feem to be entertained with it, and we could
no longer take any pleafure in reading it to him.
It is the fame cafe here. The mirth of the company,
no doubt, enlivens our own mirth, and their filence,
no doubt, difappoints us. But though this may
contribute both to the pleafure which we derive
from the one, and to the pain which we feel from
the other, it is by no means the fole caufe of either ;
and this correfpondence of the fentiments of others
with our own appears to be a caufe of pleafure, and
the want of it a caufe of pain, which cannot be ac-
counted for in this manner. The fympathy, which
my friends exprefs with my joy, might, indeed, give
me pleafure by enlivening that joy • but that which
they exprefs with my grief could give me none, if
it ferved only to enliven that grief. Sympathy,
however, enlivens joy and alleviates grief. It en-
livens joy by prefenting another fource of fatisfa&i-
on ; and it alleviates grief by infinuating into the
heart almoft the only agreeable fenfation which
it is at that time capable of receiving.
It is to be obferved accordingly, that we are
ftill more anxious to communicate to our friends
our difagreeable than our agreeable pafTions, that
we derive dill more fatisfa&ion from their fympa-
thy with the former than from that with the latter,
and that we are ftill more mocked by the want of it!
How are the unfortunate relieved when they
have found out a perfon to whom they can com-
municate the caufe of their forrow? Upon his fym-
pathy
iz 0/ Propriet y. Part I\
(
pathy they feem to difburthen themfelves of a part
of their diflrefs:. he is not improperly faid to fhare
j it with them. He not only feels a forrow of the
fame kind with that which they feel, but as if he
had derived a part of it to himfelf, what he feels
feems to alleviate the weight of what they feel.
Yet by relating their misfortunes, they in fome
meafure renew their grief.. They awaken in their
memory the remembrance of thofe circumttances,
which occanon their affliction. Their tears accord-
ingly flow falter than before, and they are apt to
abandon themfelves to all the weaknefs of forrow.
They take pleafure, however, in all this, and,, it is.
evident, are fenfibly relieved by it; becaufe the
fweetnefs of his fympathy more than compenfates
the bitternefs of that forrow, which, in order to
excite that fympathy, they had thus enlivened and
jenewed. The cruelleft infult, on the contrary,
which can be offered to the unfortunate, is to ap-
pear to make light of their calamities. To feem
not to be affected with the joy of our companions
is but want of politenefs •, but not to wear a ferious
countenance when they tell us their afflictions, is real
and grofs inhumanity.
Love is an agreeable, referitment a difagreeablc
paflion- and accordingly we are not half fo anxious
that our friends fhould adopt our fnendfhips, as
that they fhould enter into our refentments. We
can forgive them though they feem to be little af-
fected with the 'favours which we may have receiv-
ed,, but lofe all patience if they feem indifferent
about the injuries which may have been done to us:
nor are we half fo angry with them for not entering
into our gratitude, asibr not fympathizing with our
refentment.
£ea. i/ Of Prop ri et y; 13
reientment. They can eafily avoid being friends
.to our friends, but can hardly avoid being enemies
to thofe with whom we are at variance. We fel-
dom rcfent their being at enmity with the firft,
though upon that account we may fometimes affect
to make an aukward quarrel with them ; but we
quarrel with them in good earneft if they live in
Friendfhip with the laft. The agreeable paflions of
love and joy can fatisfy and fupport the heart with-
out any auxiliary pleafure. The bitter and painful
emotions of grief and refentment more flrongly re-
quire the healing confclation of fympathy.
As the perfon who is principally interefted in any
event is pleafed with our fympathy, and hurt by the
want of it, fo we, too, feem to be pleafed when we
are able to fympathize with him, and to be hurt
when we are unable to do fo. We run not only to
congratulate the fuccefsful, but to condole with the
affli&ed ; and the pleafure which we find in the
convention of one whom in all the pailions of his
heart we can entirely fympathize with, feems to do
more than compenfate the painfulnefs of that for-
row with which the view of his fituation affedts us..
On the contrary, it is always difagreeable to feel
■that we cannot fympathize with him, and inflead of
being pleafed with this exemption from fympathetic
pain, it hurts us to find that we cannot (hare his
uneafmefs. If we hear a perfon loudly lamenting
his misfortunes, which, however, upon bringing
the cafe home to ourfelves, we feel, can produce no
fuch violent effecl: upon us, we are mocked at his
grief; and, becaufe we cannot enter into it, call
.it pufiilanimity and weaknefs. It gives US/ the
fpleen, on the other hand, to fee another too hap-
py
14 0/ Propriety. Part t
py or too much elevated, as we call it, with any
little piece of good fortune. We are difobliged
even with his joy, and, becaufe we cannot go along
with it, call it levity and folly. We are even put
out of humour if our companion laughs louder or
longer at a joke than we think it deferves ; that
is, than we feel that we ourfelves could laugh at
it.
A CHAP. III.
Of the manner in which we judge of the propriety or hit-
propriety of the affeclions of other men, by their concord
or diffonance with our own.
WHEN the original paflions of the perfoii
principally concerned are in perfect con-
cord with the lympathetic emotions of the fpedta-
tor, they necefiarily appear to this lafl jufl and
proper, and fuitable to their objects ; and, on the
contrary, when, upon bringing the cafe home to
himfelf, he finds that they do not coincide with
what he feels, they necefiarily appear to him unjufl
and improper, and unfuitable to the caufes which
excite them. To approve of the paflions of ano-
ther, therefore, as fuitable to their objects, is the'
fame thing as to obferve that we entirely fympathize
with them ; and not to approve of them as fuch,
is the fame thing as to obferve that we do not en~
tirely fympathize withvthem. The man who re-
fents the injuries that have been done to me, and
obferves
SeA. i. Of Propriety. 15
obferves that I refent them precifely as he does, ne-
ceifarily approves of my refentment. The man
whofe fympathy keeps time to my grief, cannot
but admit the reafonablenefs of my forrow. He
who admires the fame poem, or the fame picture,
and admires them exa&ly as I do, muft furely allow
the juftncfs of my admiration. He who laughs at
the fame joke, and laughs along with me, cannot
well deny the propriety of my laughter. On the
•contrary, the perfon who, upon thefe different oc-
cafions, either feels no fuch emotion as that which
I feel, or feels none that bears any proportion to
mine, cannot avoid difapproving my fentiments on
account of their diffonance with, his own. If my
animofity goes beyond what the indignation of my
friend can correfpond to ; if my grief exceeds what
his moft tender companion can go along with; if
my admiration is either too high or too low to tally
with his own ; if I laugh loud and heartily when he
only fmiles, or, on the contrary, only fmile when he
laughs loud and heartily ; in all thefe cafes, as foon
as he comes from confidering the object, to obferve
how I am( affected by it, according as there is more
or lefs difproportion between his fentiments and
mine, I mull incur a greater or lefs degree of his
difapprobation : and upon all occafions his own
fentiments are the ilandards and meafures by which
he judges of mine.
To approve of another man's opinions is to adopt
thofe opinions, and to adopt them is to approve of
them. If the fame arguments which convince you
convince me likewife, I neceffarily approve ,of your
conviction >, and if they do not, I neceffarily difap- •
prove of it : neitiier can I poffibly conceive that I
fhoujci
i6 O/Propriety. Part h
fliould do the one without the other. To approve
or difapprove, therefore, of the opinions of others
is acknowledged, by every body, to mean no more
than to obferve their agreement or di (agreement
with our own. But this is equally the cafe with
regard to our approbation or difapprobation of the
fentiments or paiftons of others.
There are, indeed, fome cafes in which we feerri
to approve without any fympathy or correfpondence
of fentiments, and in which, confequeritly, the fen-
timent of approbation would feerri to be different
from the perception of this coincidence. A little
attention, however, will convince us that even in
thefe cafes our approbation is ultimately founded
upon a fympathy or correfpondence of this kind.
I fhall give an inftance in things of a very frivolous
nature, becaufe in them the ^judgments of mankind
are lefs apt to be perverted by wrongTyitems. We
may often approve of a jell, and think the laughter
of the company quite juft and proper, though we
ourfelves do not laugh, becaufe, perhaps, we are in
a grave humour, or happen to have our attention
engaged with other objects. We have learned,
however, from experience, what fort of pleafantry
Is upon mofl occafions capable of making us laugh,
and we obferve that this is one of that kind. We
approve, therefore, of the laughter of the company,
and feel that it is natural and fuitable to its object ;
becaufe, though in our prefent mood we cannot eafily
enter into it, we are fenfible that upon mofl occa-
fions we mould very heartily join in it.
The fame thing often happens with regard to all
the other paflions, A ftranger pafles by us in the
ilreet
Sect, i. Of Propriety. 17
ilreet with all the marks of the deepeit affliction*
and we are immediately told that he has jufl re-
ceived the news of the death of his father. It is im-
poilible that, in this cafe, we mould not approve of
his grief. Yet it may often happen, without any
defect of humanity on our part, that, fo far from
entering into the violence of his forrow, we ihoutd
fcarce conceive the firft movements of concern upon
his account. Both he and his father, perhaps, are
intirely unknown to us, or we happen to he employed
about other things, and do not take time to picture
out in our imagination the different circumflances of
diftrefs which mufl occur to him. We have learn-
ed, however, from experience, that fuch a misfor-
tune naturally excites fuch a degree of forrow, and
we know that if we took time to confider his fitua-
tion, fully and in all its parts, we mould, without
doubt, moil fmcerely fympathize with him. It is
upon the confcioufnefs of this conditional fympathy,
that our approbation of his forrow is founded, even
in thole cafes in which that fympathy does not ac-
tually take place ; and the general rules derived
from our preceding experience of what our fenti-
ments would commonly correfpond with, correct
upon this, as upon many other occafions, the impro-
priety of our prefent emotions.
The fentiment or affection of the heart from
which any action proceeds, and upon which its whole
virtue or vice mufl ultimately depend, may be con-
fidered under two different afpects, or in two diffe-
rent relations; firft, in relation to the caufe which
excites it, or the motive which gives occafion to it;
and fecondly, in relation to the end which it propofes,
or the effect which it tends to produce.
C In
18 O/Propriety. Part I.
In the fuitablenefs or unfuitablenefs, in the pro-
portion or difproportion which the affection feems
to bear to the caufe or object which excites it, con-
firms the propriety or impropriety, the decency or
ungracefulnefs of the confequent action.
In the beneficial or hurtful nature of the effects
which the affection aims at, or tends to produce,
confifts the merit or demerit of the action, the qua-
lities by which it is entitled to reward, or is deferv-
rag of punifhment.
Philofo pliers have, of late years, confidered chiefly
the tendency of affections, and have given little
attention to the relation which they ltand in to the
caufe which excites them. In common life, however,
when we judge of any perfon's conduct, and of the
fentiments which directed it, we conflantly confider
them under both thefe afpects. When we blame in
another man the exceffes of love, of grief, of refent-
ment, we not only confider the ruinous effects
which they tend to produce, but the little occafion
which was given for them. The merit of his favou-
rite, we fay, is not fo great, his misfortune is not fo
dreadful, his provocation is not fo extraordinary, as
to j uft if y fo violent a paffion. We fhould have in-
dulged, we fay; perhaps, have approved of the vio-
lence of his emotion, had the caufe been in any re-
fpect proportioned to it.
When we judge in this manner of any affection,
as proportioned or difproportioned to the caufe which
excites it, it is fcarce poilible. that we mould make
life of any other rule or canon but the correspondent
affection in ourfelves. If, upon bringing the cafe
S*6t t. O/Propriety, \§
home to our own breaft, we find that the fentiments
which it gives occafion to, coincide and tally with
our own, we neceffarily approve of them as propor-
tioned and fuitable to their objects^ if other wife,
we neceflarily difapprove of them, as extravagant
and out of proportion.
tvery faculty in one man is the meafure by which
he judges of the like faculty in another. I judge of
your fight by my fight, of your ear by my ear, of
your reafon by my reafon, of your refentment by
my refentment, of your love by my love. I neither
have nor can have any other way of judging about
them.
CHAP. JV.
The fame fubjecl- continued
W E may judge of the propriety or impropriety
of the fentiments of another perfon by their corre-
fpondence or difagreement with our own, upon two
different occafions ; either, fiift, when the objects-
which excite them are conlidered without any pe-
culiar relation, either to themfelves or to the perfon
whofe fentiments we judge of; orA fecondly, when
they are confidered as peculiarly affe&ing one or
©ther of us.
G 2 t . With
£o Of Propriety. Parti.
i. With regard to thofe objects which are con-
fidered without any peculiar relation either to our-
felves or to the perfon whofe fentiments we judge
of; wherever his fentiments intirely correfpond
with our own, we afcribe to him the qualities of tafte
and good judgment. The beauty of a plain, the
greatnefs of a mountain, the ornaments of a build-
ing, the expreffion of a picture, the compofition of
a difcourfe, the conducVof a third perfon, the pro-
portions of different quantities and numbers, the
various appearances which the great machine of the
univerfe is perpetually exhibiting, with the fecret
wheels and fprings which produce them; all the
general fabjects of fcience and tafte, are what we
and our companions regard, as having no peculiar
relation to either of us. We both look at them
from the fame point of view, and we have no oc-
cafion for fympathy, or for that imaginary change
of fituations from which it arifes, in order to pro-
duce, with regard to thefe, the moft perfect harmony
of fentiments and affections. If, notwithstanding,
we are often differently affected, it arifes either from
the different degrees of attention, which our diffe-
rent habits of life allow us to give eafily to the feveral
parts of thofe complex objects, or from the different
degrees of natural acutenefs in the faculty of the
mind to which they are addreffed.
When die fentiments $)f our companion coincide
with our own in things of this kind, which are ob-
vious and eafy, and in which, perhaps, we never
found a fingle perfon who differed from us, though
we, no doubt, mufl approve of them, yet he feem's
to deferve no praife or admiration on account of
them. But when they not only coincide with our
own-
Sect. I. Of Propriety. 21
own, but lead and direct our own ; when in forming
them he appears to have attended to many things
which we had overlooked, and to have adjufted
them to all the various circumftances of their objects ;
we not only approve of them, but wonder and are
furprifed at their uncommon and unexpected ac-
cutenefs and comprehenfivenefs, and he appears to
deferve a very high degree of admiration and ap-
plaufe. For approbation heightened by wonder and
furprife, conftitutes the fentiment which is properly
called admiration, and of which applaufe is the na-
tural expreffion. The decifion of the man who
judges that exquifite beauty is preferable to the
groffeft deformity, or that twice two are equal to
four, mull certainly be approved of by all the world,
but will not, furely, be much admired. It is the
acute and delicate difcernment of the man of tafte,
who diftitjguim.es the minute, and fcarce perceptible.,
differences of beauty and deformity ; it is the com-
prehenfive accuracy of the experienced mathemati-
cian, who unravels, with eafe, the molt intricate
and perplexed proportions ; it is the great leader in
fcience and tafte, the man who directs and conducts
our own fentiments, the extent and fuperior juftnefs
of whofe talents aftonifti us with wonder and fur-
prife, who excites our admiration and feems to de-
ferve our applaufe : and upon this foundation is
grounded the greater part of the praife which is
beftowed upon what are called the intellectual
virtues.
The utility of thofe qualities, it may be thought,
is what firft recommends them to us j and, no doubt,
the confideration of this, when we come to attend
to it, -gives them a new value. Originally, however,
C q we
22 0/ Propriety. Part I.
we approve of another man's judgment, not as fome-
thing ufeful, but as right, as accurate, as agreeable
to truth and reality : and it is evident we attribute
thofe qualities to it for no other reafon but becaufe
we find that it agrees with our own. Tafte, in the
fame manner, is originally approved of, not as ufe-
ful, but as juft, as delicate, and as precifely fuited to
its object The idea of the utility of all qualities of
this kind, is plainly an after-thought, and not what
tirft recommended them to our approbation.
%. With regard to thofe objects, which affect in
a particular manner either ourfelves or the perfon
whofe fentiments we judge of, it is at once more
difficult to preferve this harmony and correfpon-
dence, and at the fame time, vaftly more important.
My companion does not naturally look upon the
misfortune that has befallen me, or the injury that
has been done me, from the fame point of view in
which I confider them. They affect me much
more nearly. We do not view them from the fame
ftation, as we do a picture, -or a poem, or a.fyftem
cf philofophv, and are, therefore, apt to be verv
dirTerently affected by them. But I can much more
jeafily overlook the want of this correfpondence of
fentiments with regard to fuch indifferent objects
as concern neither me nor my companion, than with
regard to what interefts me ib much as the misfor-
tune that has befallen me, or the injury that lias been
done me. Though you defplfe that picture, or
that poem, or even that fyftem of philofophv, which
I admire, there is little danger of our quarrelling
upon that account. Neither of us can reafonahly
be much interefted about them. They ought all
flf them to be matters of great indifference to us
"'-;-■ both,
Sedt. i. Of Propriety. 23
both; fo that, though our opinions may be oppofite,
our affections may dill be very nearly the fame.
But it is quite other wife with regard to thofe objects
by which either you or I are particularly affected.
Though your judgment in matters of (peculation,
though your fentiments in matters of taite, are
quite -oppofite to mine, I can eafily overlook this
oppofition.; and if I have any degree of temper, I
may ftill find forne entertainment in yom conver-
fation, even upon thofe very fubjedts. But if you
have either no fellow-feeling for the misfortunes I
have met with, or none that bears any proportion
to the grief which didradts me -, or if you have either
no indignation at the injuries I have futTered, or
none that bears any proportion to the refentment
which tranfports me, we can no longer converfe
upon thefe fubjedts. We become intolerable to or\Q
another. I can neither fupport your company, nor
you mine. You are confounded at my violence
stud pailion, and I am enraged at your cold infenfi-
bility and want of feeling.
In all fuch cafes, that there may be fome corref-
pondence of fentiments between the fpedtator and
the perfon principally concerned, the fpectator
mud, firft of all, endeavour, as much as he can, to
put him (elf in the fituation of the other, and to bring
Jiome to himfelf every little eircurhftahce of diftfefs
which can poilibly occur to the fufferer. He mud
adopt the whole cafe of his companion with all its
minuted incidents j and drive to render as perfect
as poiiible, that imaginary change of fituation upon
v/hich his fvmpathy is founded.
After all this, however, the emotions of the fpec-r
tafor will ftill be very apt to fall lTiort of the violence
C A
24 0/P RopRiETY. . Part I.
of what is felt by the fufferer. Mankind, though
naturally fympathetic, never conceive, for what has
befallen another, that degree of paflion which na-
turally animates the perfon principally concerned.
That imaginary change of fitnation, upon which
their fympathy is founded, is but momentary.
The thought of their own fafety, the thought that
they themfelves are not really the fufferers, contin-
ally intrudes itfelf upqn them ; and though it does
not hinder them from conceiving a paffion fome-
what analogous to what i$ felt by the fufferer, hin-
ders them from conceiving any thing that approaches
to the fame degree of violence. The perfon princi-
pally concerned is fenfible of this, and, at the fame
time paffionately defires a more complete fympathy.
He longs for that relief which nothing can afford
him but the entire concord of the affections of the
fpe&ators with his own. To fee the emotions of
their hearts, in every refpecl, beat time to his own,
in the violent and difagreeable pafiions, conflitutes
his fole confolation. But he can only hope to ob-
tain this .by lowering his paflion to that pitch, in
which the fpectators are capable of going along
with him. He mull flatten, if I may be allowed
to fay fo, the lliarpnefs of its natural tone, in order
to reduce it to harmony and concord with the emo-
tions of thofe who are about him. What they
feel, will, indeed, always be, in fome refped'ts, dif-
ferent from what he feels, and companion can never
be exactly the fame with original forrow • becaufe
the fecret corifcioufnefs that the change of fituations,
from which the fympathetic fentiment arifes, is but
imaginary, not only lowers it in degree, but in fome
mre, varies it in kind, and gives it a quite diffe-
v rent
Sect, i. Of Propriety. 2$
rent modification. Thefe two fentiments, how-
ever, may, it is evident, have fuch a correfpondence
with one another, as is fufncient for the harmony of
fociety. Though they will never be unifons, they
may be concords, and this is ail that is wanted or
required.
In order to produce this concord, as nature teaches
the fpectators to aifume the circumftances of the
perfon principally concerned, fo fhe teaches this laft
in fome meafure to affume thofe of the fpectators.
As they are continually placing themfelves in this
fituation, and thence conceiving emotions fimilar to
what he feels ; fo he is as conflantly placing himfelf
in theirs, and thence conceiving fome degree of that
coolnefs about his own fortune, with which he is fen*
fible that they will view it. As they are conflantly
confidering what they themfelves would feel, if they
actually were the fufrerers, fo he is as conftantly led
to imagine in what manner he would be affected if
he was only one of the fpectators of his own fitu-
ation. As their fympathy makes them look at it,
in fome meafure, with his eyes, fo his fympathy
makes him look at it, in fome meafure, with theirs,
efpecialiy when in their prefence and acting under
their obfervation: and as the reflected pailion, which
he thus conceives, is much weaker than the original
one, it necefiarily abates the violence of what he felt
before he came into their prefence, before he began
to recollect in what manner they would be affected
by it, and to view his fituation in this candid and
impartial light.
The
26 Of Propriety. Part I,
The mind, therefore, h rarely fo difcurbed, but
that the company of a friend will reftore it to fome
degree of tranquillity and fedatenefs. The breaft
is, in fome meafare, calmed and compofed the mo-
ment we come into his prefence. We are imme-
diately put in mind of the light in which he will
view our fituation, and we begin to view it ourfelves
in the fame light ; for the effect of fympathy is in-
ftantaneous. We expect left fympathy from a com-
mon acquaintance than from a friend : we cannot
open to the former all thofe Rttle circumftances
which we can unfold to the latter : we a flume,
therefore, more tranquillity before him, and endea-
vour to fix our thoughts upon thofe general out ■
lines of our fituation which he is willing to confider.
We expect ftill leis fympathy from an aflfembly of
ftran^ers, and we affume, therefore, ftill more tran-
quillity before them, and always endeavour to bring
down our paflion to that pitch, which the particular
company we are in may be expecled to go along
with. Nor is this only an a(Tumed appearance :
for if we are at all matters of ourfelves, the prefence
of a mere acquaintance will really compofe us, ftill
more than that of a friend ; and that of an ailernbly
of ftrangers ftill more than that of an acquaint-
ance.
Society and coverfation, therefore, are the' mof|
powerful remedies for reftoring the mind to its
tranquillity, if, at any time, it has unfortunately loft
it • as well as the belt prefervatives of that equal
and happy temper, which is fo neceilary to felf-
fatisfa£tion and enjoyment. Men of r / ' remerit and'
fpeciilation, who ate apt to fit brooding at borne
over
Sect, i. cy Propriety. 27
over either grief or refentment, though they may
often have more humanity, more generofity, and a
nicer fenfe of honour, yet feldom poiTefs that equality
of temper which is fo common among men of the
world.
CHAP. V.
Of the amiable and refpetlable virtues.
LJ P O N thefe two different efforts, upon that
of the fpectator to enter into the fentiments of the
peffon principally concerned, and upon that of the
perfon principally concerned, to bring down his
emotions to what the fpedtator can go along with,
are founded two different fets of virtues. The foft,
the gentle, the amiable virtues, the virtues of candid
condefcenfion and indulgent humanity, are founded
upon the one : the great, the awful and refpectable,
the virtues of felf-denial, of felf-government, of that
command of the paffions which fubjects ail the
movements of our nature to what our own dignity
and honour, and the propriety of our own conduct
require, derive their origin from the other.
How amiable does he appear to be, whofe fym-
pathetic heart feems to re-echo all the fentiments
of thofe with whom he converfes, who grieves for
their calamities, who relents their injuries, and re- f
ioices
2B 0/ Propriety, Fart I,
joices at their good fortune ! When we bring home
to ourfelves the fituation of his companions, we
Enter into their gratitude, and feel what confoiation
they mull derive from the tender fympathy of fo
affectionate a friend. And for a contrary reafon,
how difagreeable does he appear to be, whofe hard
and obdurate heart feels for himfelf only, but is alto-
gether infenfible of the happinefsor mifery of others!
We enter, in this cafe too, into the pain which his
prefence muff give to every mortal with whom he
converfes, to thofe efpecially with whom we are
mod apt to fympathize, the unfortunate and the in-
jured.
On the other hand, what noble propriety and
grace do we feel in the conduct of thofe who, in
their own cafe, exert that recollection and fclf-
command which conftitute the dignity of every
paflion, and which bring it down to what others
can enter into? We are difgufted with that clamo-
rous grief, which, without any delicacy, calls upon
our compailion with fighs and tears and importunate
lamentations. But we reverence that referved, that
filent and majeflic forrow, which difcovers itfelf
only in the fwelling of the eyes, in the quivering of
the lips and cheeks, and i-n the diftant, but affecting,
coldnefs of the whole behaviour. It impofes tfo$
like filence upon us. We regard it with refpectful
attention, and watch with anxious concern over our
whole behaviour, left by any impropriety we fhouid
difiurb that concerted tranquillity, which it requires
fo great an effort to llipport.
The infolence and brutality of anger, in the fame
manner when we indulge its fury wjiheitat check or
- reftraint,
Sect i. Of Propriety. 2^
reftraint, is, of all fubjects, the mofl deteflable.
But v/e admire that noble and generous refentment
which governs its purfuit of the greater! injuries,
not by the rage which they are apt to excite in the
bread of the fulTerer, but by the indignation which
they naturally call forth in that of the impartial fpec-
tator; which allows no word, no gefture, to efcape
it beyond what this more equitable fentiment would
dictate^ which never, even in thought, attempts any
greater vengeance, nor defires to inflict any greater
punifhment, than what every indifferent perfon
would rejoice to fee executed.
And hence it is, that to feel much for others and
little for ourfeives, that toreflrain our feliifh, and to
indulge our benevolent affections, conflitutes the
perfection of human nature; and can alone produce
among mankind that harmony of fentiments and
paiEons in which confiil their whole grace and pro-
priety. As to love our neighbour *as we love our-
feives is the great law of chfifrianity, fo it is the great
precept of nature to love ourfeives only as we love
our neighbour, or what comes to the fame thing, as
our neighbour is capable of loving us.
As tafle and good judgmenr, when they are con-
fidered as qualities which deferve praife and admi-
ration, are fuppofed to imply a delicacy of fentiment
and an acutenefs of understanding not commonly
to be met with; fo the virtues of fen Ability and felf-
comnaand are not apprehended to eonMrl in the or-
dinary, but in the uncommon degrees of thofe qua-
lities. The amiable virtue of humanity requires,
fureiy, a feniibility, much beyond what is porTeiied
by the rude vulgar of mankind The great and
exalte (J
30 Of P r o p r i e t y. Part I.
exalted virtue of magnanimity undoubtedly de-
mands much more than that degree of felf-com-
mand, which the weakeft of mortals are capable of
exerting. As in the common degree of the intel-
lectual qualities, there are no abilities ; fo in the
common degree of the moral, there is no virtue.
Virtue is excellence, fomething uncommonly great
and beautiful, which rifes far above what is vulgar
and ordinary. The amiable virtues confift in that
degree of fenfibility which furprizes by its exquifite
and unexpected delicacy and tendernefs. The aw-
ful and refpectable, in that degree of felf-command
which aftonifhes by its amazing fuperiority over the
moll ungovernable paffions of human nature.
There is, in this refpect, a confiderable difference
between virtue and mere propriety ; between thofe
qualities and actions which deferve to be admired
and celebrated, and thofe which fimply deferve to
be approved of. Upon many occafions, to act
with the mod perfect propriety, requires no more
than that common and ordinary degree of fenfibility
or felf-command which the molt worthlefs of man-
kind are polfeffed of, and fometimes even that de-
gree is not neceffary. Thus, to give a very low in-
ftance, to eat when we are hungry, is certainly, up-
on ordinary occafions, perfectly right and proper,
and cannot mifs being approved of as fuch by every
body. Nothing, however, Could be more abfurd
than to fay it is virtuous.
On the contrary, there may frequently be a con-
fiderable degree of virtue in thofe actions, which
fall fhort of the moft perfect propriety ; becaufe
they may ft ill approach nearer to perfection than
coul4
8fe<Sc. i. G/Fropriety. 31
could well be expected upon occafions in which it
was fo extremely difficult to attain it : and this is
very often the cafe upon thofe occafions which re-
quire the greater! exertions of felf-command. There
are fame filiations which bear fo hard upon human
nature, that die greatefl degree of felf-government,
which can belong to fo imperfect a creature as man.,
is not able to 'iiifle, altogether, the voice of human
weaknefs, or reduce the violence of the pallions to
that pitch of moderation, in which the impartial,
fpeclator can entirely enter into them. Though m
thofe cafes, therefore, the behaviour of the fufferci
fall lliort of the moil perfect propriety, it may (till
deferve Come applaufe, and even in a certain fenfe,
may be denominated virtuous. It may ftill rnani-
feft an effort of generofity and magnanimity of
which the greater part of men are incapable ; and
though it fails of abioiute perfection, it may he a
much nearer approximation to waives perfection, than
s\ hat, upon fiich trying occafions, is commonly ei~
tlier to be found or to be expedited.
In cafes of this kind, when we are determining
The degree of blame or applaufe which feems due to
any adiion, we very frequently make ufe of two
different frandards. The firft is the idea of com-
plete propriety and perfection, which, in thofe dif-
ficult Situations, no human conduct ever did, or
even can come up to ; and in comparifon with
which the adtions of all men mult for ever appear
blameable and imperfect. The fecond is the idea of
that degree of proximity or diflance from this com-
plete perfection, which the actions of the greater
part of men commonly arrive at Whatever goes
beyond this degree, how far foey«r it may be re-
moved
32 O/Propriety, Part I.
moved from abfolute perfection, feems to deferve
applaufe ; and whatever falls fhort of it, to deferve
blame.
It Is in the fame manner that> we judge of the
productions of all arts which addrefs themfelves to
the imagination. When a critic examines the work
of any of the great mafters for poetry or painting,
he may fometimes examine it by an idea of perfec-
tion, in his own mind, which neither that nor any
other human work will ever come up to ; and as
long as he compares it with this ftandard, he can
fee nothing in it but faults and imperfections. But
when he come to confider the rank which it ought
to hold among other works of the fame kind, he
neceffarily compares it with a very different ftandard,
the common degree of excellence which is ufually
attained in this particular art ; and when he judges
of it by this new meafure, it may often appear to
deferve the higheft applaufe, upon account of its
approaching much riearer to perfection than the
greater part of thofe works which can be brought
into competition with it.
SECTION
■
Seft. 2. 0/ Propriety. 33
SECTION It
Of the degrees of the different paflions which are
confiftent with propriety,
INTRODUCTION.
HE propriety of every paflion excited by ob-
jects peculiarly related to ourfelves, the pitch
which the fpe&ator can go along with, mufi He, it
is evident, in certain mediocrity. If the paifion is
too high, or if it is too low, he cannot enter into it.
Grief and refentment for private misfortunes and in-
juries may eafily, for example, be too high, and in
the greater part of mankind they are fo. They
may likewife^ though this more rarely happens, be
too low. We denominate the excefs, weaknels and
fury : and we call the defect, ftupidity, infenfibility,
and want of fpirit. We can enter into neither of
them, but are aftoniihed and confounded to fee
them.
This mediocrity, however, in which the point ot
propriety confifts, is different in different paflions.
it is high in ibme, and low in others There are
Ibriie pallions which it is indecent to exprefs very
Rrongly, even upon thofe occafions, in which it is
D acknowledged
34 0/ Propriety. Part L
acknowledged that we cannot avoid feeling them
in the higheft degree. And there are others of
which the flrongeft expreflions are upon many oc-
cafions extremely graceful, even though the paffions
themfelves do noty perhaps, arife fo neceffarily.
The firft are thofe pafTions with which, for certain
reafons, there is little or no fympathy : the fecond
are thofe with which, for other reafons^ there is the
greatefl. And if we confider all the different paf-
fions of human nature, we (hall find that they are
regarded as decent, or indecent, juft in proportion
as mankind are more or lefs difpofed to iympathize
with them.
CHAP. I
Of the paffions which take their origin from the body.
,i
T is indecent to exprefs any flrong degree of
thofe pafTions which arife from a certain fituation or
difpofition of the body ; becaufe the company, not
being in the fame difpofition, cannot be expected
to fympathize with them. Violent hunger, for ex-
ample, though upon many occafions not only na-
tural, but unavoidable^ is always indecent, and to
eat voracioufly is univerfally regarded as a piece of
ill manners. There is, however, fome degree of
fympathy, even with hunger. It is agreeable to fee
our companions eat with a good appetite, and all
expi^flions
Sect. 2. Of P R O F R I E t k. 35
expreffions of loathing are ofFenfive. The difpofi-
tion of body which is habitual to a man in health,
makes- his flomach eafily keep time, if I may be
allowed fo coarfe an expreflion, with the one, and
not with the other. We can fympathlze with the
diftrefs which exceffive hunger occafions when we
read the defcription of it in the journal of a fiege,
or of a fea voyage. We imagine ourfelves in the
fituation of the fufferers, and thence readily con-
ceive the grief, the fear and conflernation, which
mufi neceflarily diftract them. We feel, ourfelves,
fome degree of thofe pafliohs, and therefore fym-
pathize with them : but as we do not grow hungry
by reading the defcription, we cannot properly,
even ill this cafe, be faid to fympathize with their
hunger.
It- is the fame cafe with the pafllon by which Na-
ture unites the two fexes. Though naturally the
moil furious of all pafi?ons, all ftrong expreffions of
it are upon every occafion indecent, even between
perfons in whom its moll complete indulgence is ac-
knowledged by all laws, both human and divine,
to be perfectly innocent. There feems, however,
to be fome degree of fympathy even with this pa f-
fion. To talk to a woman as we mould to a man
is improper: it is expected that their company
fhould infpire us with more gaiety, more pleafantry,
and more attention • and an intire infenfibility to
the fair fex, renders a man contemptible in fome
meafure even to the men.
Such is our averfion for all the appetites which
take their origin from the body : all llrong expref-
fions of them are ioathfome and difagreeable. Ac-
D 2 ' cording
$6 0/ Propriety. Parti.
cording to fome antient philoiopners, tnefe are the
paflions which we (hare in common with the brutes,
and which having no connexion widi the charadter-
iflical qualities of human nature, are upon that ac*
count beneath its dignity. But there are many
other paifions which we fhare in common with the
brutes, fuch as refentment, natural affection, even
gratitude, which do not, upon that account, ap-
pear to be fo brutal. The true caufe of the peculiar
difguft which we conceive for the appetites of the
body when we fee them in other men, is that we
cannot enter into them. To the perfon himfelf
who feels them, as foon as they are gratified, the
object ihit excited them ceafes to be agreeable i
even its prefence often becomes ofFenfive to him ;
he looks round to no purpofe for the charm which
tranfported him the moment before, and he can
now as little enter into his own pafhon as another
perfon. When we have dined, we order the co-
vers to be removed ; and we mould treat in the
fame manner the objects of the mofl ardent and
paflionate defires, if they were the objects of no
other paflions but thofe which take their origin from
the body.
In the command of fhofe appetites of the body
confifls that virtue which is properly called tempe-
rance. To reflrain them .within thofe bounds,
which regard to" health and fortune prefcribes, is the
part of prudence. But to confine them within thofe
limits, which grace, which propriety, which de-
licacy, and modelly, require, is the office of tem-
perance.
2. It is for the fame reafon that to cry out with
bodily pain, how intolerable foever, appears always
Humanly
Sect. 2, 0/P|Of riety. . 37
unmanly and unbecoming. There is, however, a
good deal of fympathy even with bodily pain. If,
as has already been obferved, I fee a flroke aimed,
and juft ready to fall upon the leg or arm, of another
perfon, I naturally llirink and draw back my own
leg, or my own arm ; and when it does fall, I feel
it in fome meafure, and am hurt by it as well as the
fufferer. My hurt, however, is, no doub^, excef-
fively flight, and, upon that account, if he makes
any violent out-cry, as I cannot go along with him,
I never fail to defpife him. And this is the cafe of
all the pailions which take their origin from the body :
they excite either no fympathy at all, or fuch a de-
gree of it, as is altogether difproportioned to the
violence of what is felt by the fufterer.
It is quite otherwife with thofe pailions which take
their origin from the imagination. The frame of
my body can be but little arTecled by the alterations
which are brought about upon that of my compa-
nion : but my imagination is more ductile, and
more readily afTumes, if I may fo^. the fhape and
configuration of the imaginations of thofe with
whom I am familiar. A difappointment in love,
or ambition, will, upon this account, call forth more
fympathy than the greatefl bodily evil. Thofe paf-
fions ariie altogether from the imagination. The
perfon who has loll his whole fortune, if he is in
health, feels nothing in his body. What he fufrers
is from the imagination only, which reprefems to
him the lofs of his dignity, neglect from his friends,
contempt from his enemies, dependence, want, and
mifery, coming faft upon him ; and we fympathize
with him more ftrongly upon this account, becaufe
our imaginations can more readily mould themieives
D 3 upon
58 O/Propriety. Part I.
upon his imagination, than bur bodies can mould
themfelves upon his body.
The lofs of a leg may generally be regarded as a
more real calamity than the lofs of a miftrefs. It
would be a ridiculous tragedy, however, of which
the cataflrophe was to turn upon a lofs of that kind.
A misfortune of the other kind, how frivolous fo-
ever it may appear to be, has given occafion to ma-
ny a fine one.
Nothing is fo loon forgot as pain. The moment
it is gone the whole agony of it is over, and the
thought of it can no longer give us any fort of dis-
turbance. We or.rfeives cannot then enter into the
anxiety and anguim which we had before conceived.
An unguarded word from a friend will occafion a
more durable uneafmefs. The agony which this
creates is by no means over with the word. What
at firft difturbs us is not the objecl; of the fenfes,
but the idea of the imagination. As it is an idea,
therefore, which occafions our uneafinefs, till time
and other accidents have in' fome meafure effaced
it from our memory, the imagination continues to
fret and rankle within, from the thought of it.
Pain never calls forth any very lively fympathv
unlefs it is accompanied with danger. We fympa-
thize with the fear, though not with the agony of
the fufferer. Fear, however, is a paflion derived
altogether from the imagination, which reprefents,
with an uncertainty and flu&uatjon that mcreafes
our anxiety, not what we really feel, but what we
may hereafter poifibly fuffer. The gout or the
toolh-ach, though exqujfitely painful, excite very
little
gedt. 2. 0/ P r o p $ i e t y. 39
little fympathy j more dangerous difeafes, though
accompanied with very little pain, excite the high-
Some people faint and grow fick at the fight of
a chirurgical operation, and that bodily pain which
is occafioned by tearing the item, feems, in them,
to excite the moil excefiive fympathy. We con-
ceive in a much more lively and 4iftin<^ manner,
the pain which proceeds from an external caufe, that*
we do that which arifes from an internal diforder.
I can fcarce form an idea of the agonies of my
neighbour when he is tortured with the gout, or the
ftone ; but I have the cleareft conception of what
he muft fuffer from an incifion, a wound, or a frac-
ture. The chief caufe, however, why fuch obje&s
produce fuch violent effect upon us, is their novelty.
One who has been witnefs to a dozen difle&ions,
and as many amputations, fees, ever after, all ope-
rations of this kind with great indifference, and of-
ten with perfect inlenfibility. Though we have
read or feen reprefented more than live hundred
tragedies, we fnall feldom fefil fo entire an abatement
of our fenfibility to the object which they reprefent
to us.
In fome of the Greek tragedies there is an attempt
to excite companion, by the reprefentation of the
agonies of bodily pain. Phik>c~tetes cries out and
faints from the extremity of his fufferings. Hip-
polytus and Hercules are both introduced as expir-
ing under the fevereft tortures, which, it feerns,
even the fortitude of Hercules was incapable of fup-
porting. In all theie cafes, however, it is not the
pain which interefls us, but fome other circumftance.
D 4 It
40 0/ P r o p r i e t Y, Part I.
It is not the fore foot, but the folitude, of Philoo
tetes which affefts us, and diffufes over that charm-
ing tragedy, that romantic wildnefs, which is fo
agreeable to the imagination. The agonies of Her-
cules and Hippolytus are interefled only becaufe we
forefee that death is to be the confequence. If thofe
heroes were to recover, we fhould think the repre-
fentation of their fufFerings perfectly ridiculous.
What a tragedy would that be of which the diftrefs
confifted in a colic. Yet no pain is more exquifite.
Thefe attempts to excite companion by the repre-
fentation of bodily pain, may be regarded as among
the greateft breaches of decorum of which the Greek
theatre has fet the example,
The little fympathy which we feel with bodily
pain is the foundation of the propriety of conflancy
and patience in enduring it. The man, who under
the feverefl tortures allows no weaknefs to efcape
him, vents no groan> gives way to no paflion which
we do not entirely enter into, commands our high-
eft admiration. His firmnefs enables him to keep
time with our indifference and infenfibility. We
admire and entirely go along with the magnanimous
effort which he makes for this purpofe. We ap-
prove of his behaviour, and from our experience of
the common weaknefs of human nature, we are fur-
prifed, and wonder how he fhould be able to aft fo
\as to deferve approbation. Approbation, mixed
and animated by wonder and furprife, conflitutes the
fentiment which is properly called admiration, of
which, applaufe is the natural exprefnon, as has. al-
ready been obferved.
C H A P.
Seel. z. O/Propriety. a\
CHAP. II.
Of thofe pajfions which take their origin from a particular
turn or habit of the imagination.
E
VEN of the paflions derived from the imagi-
nation, thofe which take their origin from a peculiar
turn or habit it has acquired, though they may be
acknowledged to be perfectly natural, are, however,
but little fympathized with. The imaginations of
mankind, not having acquired that particular turn,
cannot enter into them ; and fuch pailions, though
they may be allowed to be almoft unavoidable in
fome part of life, are always in fome meafure ridi-
culous. This is the cafe with that ftrong attach-
ment which naturally grows up between two perfons
of different fexes, who have long fixed their thoughts
upon one another. Our imagination not having run
in the fame channel with that of the lover, we can-
not enter into the eagernefs of his emotions. If
our friend has been injured, we readily fympathize
with his refentment, and grow angry with 'the very
perfon with whom he is angry. If he has received
a benefit, we readily enter into his gratitude, and
have a very high fenfe of the merit of his benefactor.
But if he is in love, though we may think his paf-
fion juft as reasonable as any of the kind, yet we
never think ourfelves bound to conceive a paffion of
the fame kind, and for the fame perfon for whom
he has conceived it. The -paiiion appears to eve-
ry body, but the man who feels it, entirely difpro-
portioned
££ O/Propriity. Part I.
portioned to the value of the object; and love,
though it is pardoned in a certain age becaufe wc
know it is natural, is always laughed at, becaufe we
cannot enter into it, All ferious and ftrong ex-
preffions of it appear ridiculous to a third perfon ;
and though a lover may be good company to his
miftrefs, he is fo to nobody elfe. He himfelf is fen-
fible of this ; and as long as. he continues in his fober
fenfes, endeavours to treat his own paifion with rail-
lery and ridicule. It is the only ftyle in which we
care to hear of it; becaufe it is the only flyle ir>
which we ourfelves are dnpofed to talk of it. We
grow weary of the grave, pedantic, and long-fen-
tenced love of Cowley and Propertius, who never
have done with exaggerating the violence of their
attachments; but the gaiety of Ovid, and the gal-
lantry of Horace, are always agreeable.
But though we feel no proper rympathy with an
attachment of this kind, though we never approach
even in imagination towards conceiving a pafilon
for that particular perfqn, yet as we either have
conceived, oif may be difpofed to conceive, paflions
of the fame kind, we readily enter into thofe high
hopes of happinefs which are propofed from its gra-
tification, as well as into that exquifite diftrefs which
is feared from its 4^aPP°>ntment- ft interefls us
not as a paiVion, but as a fituation that gives occafion
to other paffions which intereil us; to hope, to fear,
and to diflrefs of every kind : in the fame manner as
in a defcription of a fea voyage, it is not the hunger
which interefls us, but the diilrefs which that hunger
occafions. Though we do not properly enter into
the attachment of the lover, we readily go along
with thofe expeditions of romantic happinefs which
he
Seel. 2. O/Propriet y. qg
he derives from it. We feel how natural it is for
the mind, in a certain fituation, relaxed with indo-
lence, and fatigued with the violence of defire, to
long for ferenity and quiet, to hope to find them in
the gratification of that paflion which diftra&s it,
and to frame to itfelf the idea of that life of pafto-
ral tranquillity and retirement which the elegant, the
tender, and the paflionate Tibullus takes fo much
pleafure in defcribing; a life like what the poets de-
fcribe in the Fortunate Iflands, a life of frrendfhip,
liberty, and repofe ; free from labour, and from
care, and from all the turbulent paflions which attend
them. Even fcenes of this kind intereft us rnoft
when they are painted rather as what is hoped, than
as what is enjoyed. The groflhefs of that paflion.
which mixes with, and is, perhaps, the foundation
of love, [difappears when its gratification is far off
and at a diftance; but renders the whole offenfiye
when defcribed as what is immediately pofiefled.
The happy paflion, upon this account, interefls us
much lefs than the fearful and the melancholy.
We tremble for whatever can difappoint fuch natu-
ral and agreeable hopes : and thus enter into all the
anxiety, and concern, and diftrefs of the lover,
Hence it is, that, in fome modern tragedies and
romances, this paflion appears fo wonderfully inte-
refling. It is not fo much the love of Caftalk) and
Monimia which attaches us in the Orphan, as the di-
ftrefs which that love occafions. The author who
mould introduce two lovers, in a fcene of perfect
fecurity, exprefling their mutual fondnefs for one
another, would excite laughter, and not fympathy.
If a fcene of this kind is ever admitted into a tra-
gedy, it is always, in fome meafure, improper, and
is
44 G/Propruty. Parti.
is endured, not from any fympathy with the paflion
that is expreffed in it, but from concern for the
dangers and difficulties with which the audience
forefee that its gratification is likely to be attended.
The referve which the laws of fociety impofe
upon the fair fex, with regard to this weaknefs, ren-
ders it more peculiarly diftrefsful in them, and, upon
that very account, more deeply interelling. We
are charmed with the love of Phaedra, as it is ex-
preffed in the French tragedy of that name, not-
withstanding all the exLravagance and guilt which
attends it. That very extravagance and guilt
may be faid, in fame meafure, to recommend it to
us. Her fear, her fhame, her remorie, her horror,
her defpair, become thereby more natural and in-
terefting. All the fecondary paiTions, if I may be
allowed to call them fo, which arife from the fitu-
ation of love, become necelfarily more furious and
violent : and it is with thefe fecondary pafiions only
that we can properly be faid to fympathize.
Of all the paffions, however, which are fo ex-
travagantly difproportioned to the value of their
objects, love is the only one that appears, even to
the weaken: minds, to have any thing in it that is
either graceful or agreeable. In itfelf, firft of all,
though it may be ridiculous, it is not naturally
odious i and though its confequences are often fatal
and dreadful, its intentions are feldom mifchievous.
And then, though there is little propriety in the
paflion itfeif, there is a good deal in ibme of thofe
which always accompany it. There is in love a
flrong mixture of humanity, generality, kindnefs,
friendfhip, eftecrn> paiTions with which, of all
others.
Sect. 2. Of P r o £ r i e f y. 45
others, for reafons which (hall be explained imme-
diately., we have the greatefl propenfity to fympa-
thize, even notwithstanding we are fenfible that
they are* in Tome rrieafure, excefllve. The fympathy
which we feel with them, renders the paflion which
they accompany lefs difagreeable^ and fupports it
in our imagination, notwithstanding all the vices
which commonly go along with it; though in the
one fex it neceifarily leads to ruin and infamy; and
though in the other, where it is apprehended to be
leait fatal, it is almoft always attended with an in-
capacity for labour, a neglect of duty, a contempt
of fame, and even of common reputation. Not-
withflanding all this, the degree of fenfibility and
generofity with which it is fuppofed to be accom-
panied, renders it to many the object of vanity;
and they are fond of appearing capable of feeling
what would do them no honour if they had really-
felt it.
It is for a reafbn of the fame kind, that a certain
referve is neceffary when we talk of our own friends,
our own fludies, our own profefTions. All thefe are
objects which we cannot expect mould interefl our
companions in the fame degree in which they interefl
Us. And it is for want of this referve, that the one
half of mankind make bad company to the other.
A philolbpher is company to a philofopher only; 1
the member of a club, to his own little knot of
.companions.
CHAP,
46 O/Propriety. Part I,
CHAP. Jit
Of the Unfocial pajfions.
HERE is another fet of paflions," which though
derived from the imagination* yet before we can
enter into them, or regard them as graceful or be-
coming, mufl always be brought down to a pitch
much lower than that to which undifciplined na-
ture would raife them. Thefe are hatred and re-
fentment, with all their different modifications.
With regard to all fuch paflions, our fympathy is
divided between the perfon who feels them and the
perfon who is the object of them. The interefls of
thefe two are directly oppofite. What our fympa-
thy with the perfon who feels them would prompt
us to wifh for, our fellow-feeling with the other
Would lead us to fear; As they are both men, we
are concerned for both, and our fear for what the
one may fuffer, damps our refentment for what the
other has fuffered. Our fympathy, therefore, with
the man who has received the provocation, necefla-
rily falls fhort of the paflion which naturally animates
him, not only upon account of thofe general caufes
which render all fympathetic pailions inferior to the
original ones, but^ipon account of that particular
caufe which is peculiar to itfelf, our oppofite fympa-
thy
Sect. 2. Of P r o p & t e t y. 47
thy with another perfon. Before refentment, there-
fore, can become graceful and agreeable, it mult
be more humbled and brought down below that
pitch to which it would naturally rife, than almoft
any other paflion.
Mankind, at the fame time, have a very flrong
fenfe of the injuries that are done to another. The
villain, in a tragedy or romance, is as much the ob-
ject of our indignation, as the hero is that of our
fympathy and . affection. We deteft Iago as much
as we efleem Othello ; and delight as much in the
punifhment of the one, as we are grieved at the di-
ftrefs of the other. But though mankind have fo
ftrong a fellow-feeling with the injuries that are
done to their brethren, they do not always re.fent
them the more that the fufferer appears] to refent
them. Upon moll: occafions, the greater his pa-
tience, his mildnefs^ his humanity, provided it does
not appear that he wants fpirit, or that fear was the
motive of his forbearance, the higher the refentment
againfl the perfon who injured him. The amiable-
nefs of the character exafperates their fenfe of the
atrocity of the injury,
Thefe pallions, however* are regarded as necefTary
parts of the character of human nature. A perfon1
becomes contemptible who tamely fits flill, and fub- ,
mits to infults, without attempting either to repel or
to revenge them. We cannot enter into his indif-
ference and mfeniibility : we call his behaviour mean-
fpiritednefs, and are as really provoked by it as b v
the infolence of his adverfary. Even the mob r^e
enraged to fee any man fubmit patiently to affrc cits
and ill ufage. They defire to fee this infolence re-
fen .ted-.
Of Propriety. Part I.
faited, and refented by the perfon who fuffers from
it. They cry to him with fury, to defend, or to re-
venge himfelf. If his indignation rouzes at laft,
they heartily applaud, and fympathize with it. It
enlivens their own indignation againfl his enemy,
■whom they rejoice to fee him attack in turn, and
are as really gratified by his revenge, provided it is
Dot immoderate, as if the injury had been done to
themfelves.
But though the utility of thofe paffions to the in^
dividual, by rendering it dangerous to infult or in-
jure him, be acknowledged; and though their utility
to the public, as the guardians of juftice, and of the
equality of its adminiftration, be not lefs confider-
able, as mail be fhewn hereafter-, yet there is flill
fomething difagreeable in the paffions themfelves,
which makes the appearance of them in other men
the natural objed of cur avernon. The expreffion
of anger towards any body prefent, if it exceeds a
bare intimation that we are fenfible of his ill ufage,
is regarded not only as an infult to that particular
perfon, but as a rudenefs to the whole company.
Refpedt for them ought to have retrained us from
giving way to fo boifterous and offenfive an emotion.
It is the remote effects of thefe paffions which are
agreeable; the immediate effe&s are mifchief to
the perfon againft whom they are directed. But it
\s the immediate, and not the remote effects of ob-
jects which render them agreeable or diiagreeable
,to the imagination. A prifon is certainly more
ufeful to the public than a palace; and the perfon
wiHo founds the one is generally directed by a much
jufler fpirit of p&triotifm, than he who builds the
other. Eur the immediate effects of a prrfon, the
confinement
Sect. £. Of F R o p ,r i e t Y. j&
confinement of the wretches (hut up in it, are dif-
agreeable ; and the imagination either does not take
time to trace out the remote ones, or fees them at
too great a diflance to be much affected by them.
A prifon, therefore, will always be a difagreeable
object- and the fitter it is for the purpofe for which
it was intended, it will be the more fo. A palace,
on the contrary, will always be agreeable • yet its
remote effects may often be inconvenient to the
public. It may ferve to promote luxury, and fet
the example of the diffolution of manners. Its im-
mediate effects, however, the conveniency, the plea-
fure, and the gaiety of the people who live in it,
being all agreeable, and fuggefting to the imagi-
nation a thoufand agreeable ideas, that faculty ge-
nerally refts upon them, and feldom goes further
in tracing its more diflant confequences. Trophies
of the inftruments of mufic or of agriculture, imi-
tated in painting or in flucco, make a common and
an agreeable ornament of our halls and dining-rooms.
A trophy of the fame kind, compofed of the inftru-
ments of furgery, of diiiecting and amputation-
knives, of faws for cutting the bones, of trepanning
inftruments, &c. would be abfurd and mocking.
Inftruments of furgery, however, are always more
finely polilhed, and generally more nicely adapted
to the purpofes for which they are intended, than
inftruments of agriculture. The remote effedts of
them too, the health of the patient, is agreeable,
yet as the immediate effect of them is pain and fuf-
fering, the fight of them always difpleafes us. In-
ftruments of war are agreeable, though their imme-
diate effect may feeixi to be in the fame manner pain
and fullering. But then it is the pain and fuffering
of our enemies, with whom we have no fympathy.
E With
$o O/Propriety.' Part I.
With regard to us, they are immediately connected
with the agreeable ideas of courage, victory, and
honour. They are themfelves, therefore, fuppofed
to make one of the noblelt parts of drefs, and the
imitation of them one of the fineft ornaments of
architecture. : It is the fame cafe with the qualities
of the mind. The ancient ftoics were of opinion,
that as the world was governed by the all-ruling
providence of a wife, powerful, and good God,
every Jingle event ought to be regarded, as making
a necelfary part of the plan of the univerfe, and as
tending to promote the general order and happinefs
of the whole: that the vices and follies of mankind,
therefore, made as neceffary a part of this plan as
their wifdom or their virtue; and by that eternal
art which educes good from ill, were made to tend
equally to the profperity and perfection of the great
fyftem of nature. No fpeculation of this kind,
however, how deeply foever it might be rooted iti
the mind, could diminim our natural abhorrence for
vice, whofe immediate effects are fo destructive, and
whofe remote ones are too diftant to be traced by
the imagination.
It is the fame cafe with thofe paffions we have
been juft now confidering. Their immediate effects
are fo difagreeable, that even when they are molt
juftly provoked, there is itill fomething about them
which, difgufts us. Thefe, therefore, are the only
paffions of which the expreflions, as I formerly ob~
ferved, do not difpofe and prepare us to fympathize
with them, before we are informed of the caufe
which excites them. The plaintive voice of mifery,
when heard at a* diflance, will not allow us to be
indifferent about the perfon from whom it comes.
As
Seel. 2. O/Propriet y. gx
As foon as it ftrikes our ear, it interests us in his for-
tune, and, if continued, forces us almoft involun-
tarily to fly to his affiftance. The fight of a fmiling
countenance, in the fame manner, elevates even the
penfive into that gay and airy mood, which difpofes
him to fympathize with, and (hare the joy which it
exprelfes; and he feels his heart, which with thought
and care was before that fhrunk and depreffed, in-
ftantly expanded and elated. But it is quite other-
wife with the expreffions of hatred and refentment.
The hoarfe, boiflerous, and difcordant voice of
anger, when heard at a diflance, infpires us either
with fear or averfion, We do not fly towards it
as to one who cries out with pain and agony. Wo-
men, and men of weak nerves, tremble and are.
overcome with fear, though fenfible that themfelves
are not the -objects of the anger. They conceive
fear, however, by putting themfelves in the filia-
tion of the perfon who is fo. Even thofe of flouter
hearts are diflurbed ; not indeed enough to make
them afraid, but enough to make them angry ; for
anger is the paffion which they would feel in the fili-
ation- of the other perfon. It is the fame cafe with
hatred. Mere expreffions of fpite infpire it a^ainfl
no body, but the man who ufes them. Both thefe
pafiions are by nature the objects of our averfion.
Their difagreeable and boiflerous appearance never
excites, never prepares, and often diflurbs our fyrri-
pathy. Grief does not more powerfully engage
and attract us to the perfon in whom we obferve it,
than thefe, while we are ignorant of their caufe,
difguft and detach us from him. It was, it feems,
the intention of Nature, that thofe rougher and more
unenviable emotions, which drive men from one
another, mould be lefs eafily and mere rarely com-
municated.
E z When
5* Of Pr o r r i e t Y> Part L
When inufic imitates the modulations of grief or
joy, it either actually infpires us with thofe pallions,
or at leaft puts us in the mood which difpofes us to
conceive them. But when it imitates the notes of
anger, it infpires us with fear. Joy, grief, love,
admiration, devotion, are all of them pafhons which
are naturally mufical. Their natural tones are all
foft, clear, and melodious •> and they naturally ex-
prefs themfelves in periods which are diftinguilhed
by regular paufes, and which upon that account are
eafily adapted to the regular returns of the correspon-
dent airs of a tune. The voice of anger, on the
contrary, and of all the paiTions which are akin to
it, is harm and difcordant. It periods too are all
irregular, fometimes very long, and fometimes
very fliort, and diftinguifhed by no regular paufes.
It is with difficulty, therefore, that mufic can imitate
any of thofe pafiions; and the mufic ' which does
imitate them is not the mofl agreeable. A whole
entertainment may confiir, without any impropriety,
of the imitation of the focial and agreeable pallions.
It would be a flrange entertainment which confuted
altogether of the imitations of hatred and refent-
menu
If thofe paiTions are difagreeable to the fpectator,
they are not lefs fo to the perfon who feels them.
Hatred and anger are the greateft poifon to the
happinefs-of a good mind. There is, in the very
feeling of thofe pallions, fomething harfh, jarring,
and convulfive, fomething that tears and diffracts
the breaft, and is altogether defcructive of that com-
pofure and tranquillity of mind which is fo neceffary
to happinefs, and which is. bed promoted by the
contrary
Sect. 2. O/Propriety. 53
contrary paflions of gratitude and love. It is not
the value of what they lofe by the perfidy and in-
gratitude of thofe they live with, which the gene-
rous and humane are moft apt to regret. Whatever
they may have loft, they can generally be very
happy without it. What moft diilurbs them is the
idea of perfidy and ingratitude exercifed towards
themfelves; and the difcordant and difagreeable
paflions which this excites, conftitutes, in their own
opinion, the chief part of the injury which they
furler.
How many things are requifite to render the
gratification of refentment compleatly agreeable,
and to make the fpectator thoroughly fympathize
with our revenge? The provocation mutt firft of
all be fuch that we mould become contemptible, and
be expofed to perpetual infults, if we did not, in
fome meafure, refent it. Smaller offences are al-
ways better neglected ; nor is there any thing more
defpicable than that froward and captious humour
which takes fire upon every flight occafion of quar-
rel. We mould refent more from a Cenk of the
propriety of refentment, from a fenfe that mankind
expect and require it of us, than becaufe we feel
in ourfehes the furies of that difagreeable paffion.
There is no paiiion, of which the human mind is
capable, concerning whofe juftnefs we ought to be
fo doubtful, concerning whofe indulgence we ought
fo carefully to confult our natural fenfe of propriety,
or fo diligently to confider what will be the fenti-
ments of the impartial fpectator. Magnanimity, or
a regard to maintain our own rank and dignity in
fociety,-. is the only motive which can ennoble the
expreiiions of this difagreeable pafiion. Tins mo-
E 3 tiK
54 Of Propriety. Parti.
live muft characterize our whole ftile and deport-
ment. Thefe mull be plain, open, and direct;
determined without pofitivenefs, and elevated with-
out infolence; not only free from petulance and
low fcurrility, but generous, candid, and full of all
proper regards, even for the perfon who has offend-
ed us. It muft appear, in lhort, from our whole
manner, without our labouring affectedly to exprefs
it, thatpaflion has not extinguifhed our humanity;
and that if we yield to the dictates of revenge, it is
with reluctance, from neceiTity, and in confequence
of great and repeated provocations. When refent-
ment is guarded and qualified in this manner, it may
be admitted to be even generous and noble.
CHAP. IV,
Of the focial pajfiow,
JLjl S it is a divided fympathy which renders the
whole fet of pailions juft now mentioned, upon
moft occafions, fo ungraceful and difagreeable ; fo
there is another fet oppofite to thefe, which a re-
doubled fympathy renders almoft' always peculiarly
agreeable and becoming. Generofity, humanity,
kindnefs, companion, mutual friend (hip and eiteem,
all the focial and benevolent affections, when ex-.
prefTed in the countenance or behaviour, even to-
wards
Sect. 2. O/Proprie^ty. 55
wards thofe who are peculiarly connected with our-
felves, pleafe the indifferent fpectator upon almoft
every occafion. Hisfympathy with the perfon who
feels thofe palfions, exactly coincides with his con-
cern for the perfon who is the object of them. The
intereft, which, as a man, he is obliged to take in
the happinefs of this laft, enlivens his fellow-feelino-
with the fentiments of the other, whofe emotions are
employed about the fame object. We have always,
therefore, the ftrongeft difpofition to fympathize
with the benevolent affections. They appear in
every refpect agreeable to us. We enter into the
fatisfaction both of the perfon who feels them and
of the perfon who is the object of them. For as to
to be the object of hatred and indignation gives more
pain than ail the evils which a brave man can fear
from his enemies; fo there is a fatisfaction in the
c;onfcioufnefs of being beloved, which, to a perfon
of dejicacy and .fenfi.bility, is of more importance
to happinefs than all the advantage which he can
expect to derive from it. What character is fo de-
tectable as that of one who takes pleafure to fow
diffenfion among friends, and to turn their mod ten-
der love into mortal hatred ? Yet wherein does the
atrocity of this fo much abhorred injury conilft?
Is it in depriving them of the frivolous good offices
which had their friendfhip continued, they mio-ht
have expected from one another ? It is in depriving
them of that friendfhip itfejf, in robbing them of
each others affections, from which both derived fo
much fatisfaction ; it is in diiturbing the harmony of
their hearts, and putting an end to that happy com-
merce which had before fubfifted between them.
Thefe affections, that harmony, this commerce, are
felt, not only by the tender and the delicate, but by
E 4 the
$6 O/Propristy,. Part I.
the rudell vulgar of mankind, to be of more impor-
tance to happinefs than all the little fervices which
could be expected to flow from them.
The fentiment of love is, in itfelf, agreeable to
the perfon who feels it. It fooths and compotes
the breaft, teems to favour the vital motions, and
to promote the healthful {late of the human confti-
tution- and it is rendered ilill more delightful by
the ccnfcioufnefs of the gratitude and fati'sf action
which it mull excite in him who is the object of it.
Their mutual regard renders them happy in one
another, and fympathy, with this mutual regard ]
makes them agreeable to every other perfon/ With
what pleafure do we look upon a family, through
the whole of which reign mutual love and efleemr
where the parents and children are companions for
one another, without any other difference than what
is made by refpectful affection on the one fide, and
kind indulgence on the other; where freedom and
fondnefs, mutual raillery, and mutual kindnefs,
fhow that no oppofition of intereil divides the bro-
thers, nor any rivalihip of favour fets the fillers at
variance, and where every thing prefents us with
the idea of peace, chearfulnefs, harmony, and con-
tentment ? On the contrary, how uneafy are we
made when we go into a houfe in which jarring
contention fets one half of thofe who dwt\i in it
asainfl the other: where amidft affected fmooth-
nefs and complaifance, fufpi clous looks and iudden
Harts of paflion betray the mutual jeajoufies which
burn within them, and which are every moment
ready to burfl out through all the reflraints which
the prefence of the company impofes ?
Thofe
Sedt 2. 0/ Propriety. 57
Thofe amiable paflions, even when they are ac-
knowledged to be exceiTive, are never regarded with
averfion. There is fomething agreeable even in the
weaknefs of friendfhip and humanity. The too
tender mother, the too indulgent father, the too ge-
nerous and afTe&ionate friend, may fometimes, per-
haps, on account of the foftnefs of their natures, be
looked upon with a fpecies of pity, In which, how-
ever, there is a mixture of love, but can never be
regarded with hatred and averfion, nor even with
contempt, unlefs by the moil brutal and worthlefs
of mankind: It is always with concern, with fym-
pathy and kindnefs, that we blame them for the ex-
travagance of their attachment. There is a help-
lefTnefs in the character of extreme humanity which
more than any thing interefls our pity. There is
nothing in itfelf which renders it either ungraceful
or difagreeable. We only regret that it is unfit for
the world, becaufe the world is unworthy of it, and
becaufe it muft expofe the perfon who is endowed
with it as a prey to the perfidy and ingratitude of
infmuating falfhood, and to a thcufand pains and
uneafinenes, which, of all men, he the ieaft de-
ferves to feel, and which generally too he is, of all
men, the leaft capable of fupporting. It is quite
otherwife with hatred and refentment. Too violent
a propenfity to thofe deteftable pafiions, renders $
perfon the object of univerfal dread and abhorrence,
who, like a wild beaft, ought, we think, to be hunt-
ed out of all civil focietv.
CHA P
58 0/P ropriety. Part I.
CHAP. V.
Of the felfijb pa/fans.
B
ESIDES thofe two oppofite fets of paffions,
the focial and unfocial, there is another which holds
a fort of middle place between them ; is never either
fo graceful as is fometimes the one fet, nor is ever
'To odious as is fometimes the other. Grief and
joy, when conceived upon account of our own pri-
vate good or bad fortune, constitute this third fet of
paflions. Even when exceffive, they are never fo
difagreeable as exceflive refentment, becaufe no op-
pofite f mpathy can ever intereft us againft them :
and when mod fuitable to their objects they are ne-
ver fo agreeable as impartial humanity and juft be-
nevolence; becaufe no double fy mpathy can ever
intereft us for them. There is, however, this dif-
ference between grief and joy, that we are generally
moil: difpofed to fympathize with fmall joys and.great
forrows. The man, who, by fome fudden revolu-
tion of fortune, is lifted up all at once into a condi-
tion of life, greatly above what he had formerly liv-
ed in, may be aiTured that the congratulations of his
beft friends are not all of them perfectly fincere.
An upftart, though of the greateft* merit, is gene-
rally difagreeable, and a fentiment of envy com-
monly prevents u§ from heartily fympathizing with
hisjoy. If he has any judgment he is fenfible of
this,
Sect. 2, O/Propriety, $$
this, and inftead of appearing to be elated with his
good fortune, he endeavours, as much as he can,
to fmother his joy, and keep down that elevation of
mind with which his new circumftances naturally in-
fpire him. He affects the fame plainnefs of drefs,
and the fame modefty of behaviour, which became
him in his former ftation.. He redoubles his atten-
tion to his old friends, and endeavours more than
ever to be humble, afliduous, and complaifant. And
this is the behaviour which in his fituation we moil
approve of -, becaufe we expect, it feems, that he
mould have more fympathy v/ith our envy and aver-
fion to his happinefs, than we have with his happn
nefs. It is feldom that with all this he fucceeds.
We fufpect the fincerity of his humility, and he
grows weary of this conflraint. In a little time,
therefore, he generally leaves all his old friends be-
hind him, fome of the meaneft of them excepted,
who may, perhaps, condefcend to become his de-
pendents : nor does he always acquire any new ones;
the pride of his new connections is as much affront-
ed at rinding him their equal, as that of his old ones
had been by his becoming their fuperior : and it re-
quires the molt obftinate and perfevering modefty
to atone for this mortification to either. He gene-
rally grows weary too foon, and is provoked, by
the fullen and fufpicious pride of the one, and by
the faucy contempt of the other, to treat the firft
with neglect, and the fecond with petulance, till at
lafl he grows habitually infolent, and forfeits the
eiteem of all. If the chief part of human happi-
nefs arifes from the confcioufnefs of being beloved,
as I believe it does, thofe fudden changes of for-
tune feldom contribute much to happinefs. He is
happiefi who advances more gradually to greatnefs,
whom
6o O/Prgpriety, ; Part I.
whom the public deftines to every flep of his pre-
ferment long before he arrives at it, in whom, upon
that account, when it comes, it can excite no ex-
travagant joy, and with regard to whom it cannot
reafonably create either any jealoufy in thofe he over-
takes, or any envy in thofe he leaves behind.
Mankind, however, more readily fympathize
with thofe fmallerjoys which flow from lefs impor-
tant caufes. It is decent to be humble amidft great
profperity ; but we can fcarce exprefs too much fa-
tisfaclion in all the little occurrences of common
life, in the company with which we fpent the even-
ing laft night, in the entertainment that was let be-
fore us, in what was faid and what was done, in
all the little incidents of the prefent converfation,
and in all thofe frivolous nothings which fill up the
void of human life. Nothing is more graceful than
habitual chearfulnefs, which is always founded up-
on a peculiar relilh for all the little pleafures which
common occurrences afford. We readily fympa-
thize with it : it infpires us with the fame joy, and
makes every trifle turn up to us in the fame agree-
able afpec\ in which it prefents itfelf to the perfon
endowed with this happy difpofition. Hence it is
that youth, the feafon of gaiety, io eafily engages
our affeclions. That propensity to joy which feems
even to animate the bloom, and to fparkle from the
eyes of youth and beauty, though in a perfon of
the fame fex, exalts, even the aged, to a more
joyous mood than ordinary. They forget, for a
time, their infirmities, and abandon- themielves to
thofe agreeable ideas and emotions to which they
have long been flrangers, but which, • ben the pre-
v
Se&. 2. O/Propriety. fo
fence of fo much happinefs recalls tHem to their
bread, take their place there, like old acquaintance,
from whom they are forry to have ever been parted,
and whom they embrace more heartily upon ac-
count of this long feparation.
It is quite otherwife with grief. Small vexations
excite no Sympathy, but deep affliction calls forth
the greater!:. The man who is made uneafy by eve-
ry little difagreeable incident, who is hurt if either
the cook or the butler have failed in the leail article
of their duty, who feels every defect in the higher!
ceremonial of poiitenefs, whether it be (hewn to
himfeif or to any other perfon, who takes it amifs
that his intimate friend did not bid him good-mor-
ig.v when they met in the forenoon, and that his
brother hummed a tune all the time he himfeif was
telling a flory ; who is put out of humour by the
badnefs of the weather when in the country, by the
badnefs of the roads when upon a journey, and by
the want of company, and dullnefs of all public
diverfions when in town ; fuch a perfon, I fay,
though he fhould have fome reafon, will feldom
meet with much fympathy. Joy is a pleafant emo-
tion, and we gladly abandon ourfelves to it upon
the flighted occafion. We readily, therefore, fym-
pathize with it in others, whenever we are not pre-
judiced by envy. But grief is painful, and the
mind, even when it is our own misfortune, natu-
rally refifls and recoils from it. We would endea-
vour, either not to conceive it at all, or to fliake it
off as foon as we have conceived it. Our averilon
to grief will not, indeed, always hinder us from
conceiving it in our own cafe upon very trifling oc-
casions,
62 Of Pr o p r i e t y. Part I.
cafions, but it conftantly prevents us from fympa-
thizing with it in others when excited by the like
frivolous caufes: for our fympathetic paflions are
always lefs irrefiftible than our original ones. There
is, befides, a malice in mankind, which not only
prevents all fympathy with little uneafmeifes, but
renders them in fome meafure diverting. Hence
the delight which we all take in raillery, and in the
fmall vexation which we obferve in our compa-
nion, when he is pufhed, and urged, and teafed
upon all fides. Men of the moft ordinary good-
breeding diiTemble the pain which any little inci-
dent may give them ; and thole who are more tho-
roughly formed to fociety, turn, of their own ac-
cord, all fuch' incidents into raillery, as they know
their companions will do for them. The habit
which a man, who lives in the world, has acquired
of confidering how every thing that concerns him-
felf will appear to others, makes thofe frivolous ca-
lamities turn up in the fame ridiculous light to him,
in which he knows they will certainly be confidered
by them.
Our fympathy, on the contrary, with deep dif-
trefs, is very ftrong and very fincere. It is unne-
ceffary to give an inftance. We weep even at the
feigned reprefentation of a tragedy. If you la-
bour, therefore, under any fignal calamity, if by
fome extraordinary misfortune you are fallen into
poverty, into difeafes, into difgrace and difappoint-
ment ; even though your own fault may have been,
in part, the occafion, yet you may generally de-
pend upon the fincereft fympathy of all your
friends, and, as far as interefi and honour will per-
Sea. 2. 0/ Propriety: 6$
mit, upon their kindefl affiftance too. But if your
misfortune is not of this dreadful kind, if you have
only been a little baulked in your ambition, if you
have only been jilted by your miftrefs, or are only
hen-pecked by your wife, lay your account with
the raillery of all your acquaintance.
SECTION
46 O/PnopRitTY. Parti.
SECTION III.
Of the effects of profperity and adverfity upon the
judgment of mankind with regard to the propriety
of adtion ; and why it is more eafy to obtain their
approbation in the one ftate than in the other.
CHAP. I.
That though onrfympathy with for row is generally a more
lively fenfation than our Sympathy with joy •, it commonly
falls much more port of the violence of what is naturally
felt by the perfon principally concerned.
V>IUR fympathy with forrow, though not more
real, has been more taken notice of than our fym-
pathy with joy. The word fympathy, in its mcil
proper and primitive fignification, denotes our fellow-
feeling with the fufTerings, not that with the enjoy-
ments, of others. A late ingenious and fubtile phi-
lofopher thought it necevtary to prove, by arguments,
that we had a real fympathy with joy, and that con-
gratulation was a principle of human nature. No-
body, I believe, ever thought it neceffary to prove
that companion was fuch.
Firtt of all, ourSyrnpathy with forrow is, in fome
fenfe, more univerfai than that with joy. Though
iorrow
Sect. 3. O/Propriety. &g
forrow is exceiTive, we may ftill have fome fellow-
feeling with it. What we feel does not, indeed, in
this cafe* amount to that complete fympathy, to
that perfect harmony and correfpondence of fenti-
ments which conftitutes approbation. We do not
weep, and exclaim, and lament, with the fufferer.
We are fenfible, on the contrary, of his weaknefs*
and of the extravagance of his paiTion, and yet
often feel a very fenfible concern upon his account.
But if we do not entirely enter into, and go along
with, the joy of another, we have no fort of regard
or fellow-feeling for it. The man who (kips and
dances about with that intemperate and fenfelefs
joy which we cannot accompany him in, is the object
of our contempt and indignation.
Pain befides, whether of mind or body, is a more
pungent fenfation than pleafure, and our fympathy
with .pain, though it falls greatly ftiort of what is
naturally felt by the fufferer, is generally a more
lively and diftinct perception than our fympathy
with pleafure, though this lair often approaches
more nearly, as I mail (how immediately, to the
natural vivacity of the original paiTion,
Over and above all this, we often ftruggle to keep
down our fympathy with the forrow of others.
Whenever we are not under the obfervation of the
fufferer, we endeavour, for our own fake, to fupprefs it
as much as we can, and we are not always fuccefsfuk
The oppofition which we make to it, and the reluc-
tance with which we yield to it, necelTarily oblige us
to take mere particular notice of it. But we never
have occafion to make this oppofition to our fym-
pathy with joy, If there is any envy in the cafe,
F we
66 Of P r o p r i e t y. Fart I,
we never feel the leaft propenfity towards it •, and
if there is none, we give way to it without any re-
luctance. On the contrary, as we are always a-
fhamed of our own envy, we often pretend, and
fometimes really wifh to fympathize with the joy of
others, when by that difagreeable fentiment we are
difqualified from doing fo. We are glad, we fay,
on account of our neighbour's good fortune, when
in our hearts, perhaps, we are really forry. We
often feel a fympathy with forrow when we wifh to
be rid of it j and we often mifs that with joy when
we would be glad to have it. The obvious obferva-
tion, therefore, which it naturally fails in our way
to make, is that our propenfity to fympathize with
ibrrow mult be very ftrong, and our inclination to
fympathize with joy very weak.
Notwithftanding this prejudice, however, I will
venture to affirm, that, when there is no envy in the
cafe, our propenfity to fympathize with joy is much
ftronger than our propenfity to fympathize with for-
row j and that our fellow-feeling for the agreeable
emotion approaches much more nearly to the viva-
city of what is naturally felt by the perfons princi-
pally concerned, than that which we conceive for the:
painful one.
We have fome indulgence for that exceflive grief
which we cannot entirely go along with. We know
what a prodigious effort is requifite before the fufferer
can bring down his emotions to compleat harmony
and concord with thofe of the fpectator. Though
he fails, therefore, we eafily pardon him. But we
have no fuch indulgence for the intemperance of
•oy ; becaufe we are not confcious that any fuch vafl
effort
Sect. 3. O/Propriety, 67
effort is requifite to bring it down to what we can
entirely enter into. The man who, under the
greateft calamities, can command his forrow, feems
worthy of the higheft admiration ; but he who, in
the fulnefs of profperity, can in the fame manner
mailer, his joy, feems hardly to deferve any praife.
We are fenfible that there is a much wider interval
in the one cafe than in the other, between what is
naturally felt by the perfon principally concerned,
and what the fpedlator can entirely go along with.
What can be added to the happinefs of the man who
is in health, who is out of debt, and has a clear
confcience r To one in this fituation, all acceifions
of fortune may properly be laid to be fuperfluous ;
and if he is much elevated udou account of them,
it muft be the effect of the molt frivolous levity.
This fituation, however, may very well be called
the natural and ordinary Hate of mankind. Not-
withftanding the prefent mifery and depravity of the
world, fo juflly lamented, this really is the flate of
the greater part of men. The greater part of men.,
therefore, cannot find any great difficulty in ele-
vating themfeives to ail the joy which any accef-
fion to this fituation can well excite in their com-
panion.
But though little can be added to this -flate, much
maybe taken from it. Though between this condi-
tion and the highetf pitch of human profperity, the
interval is but a trifle; between it and the lowed
depth of mifery the diflance is immenfeand prodigious.
Adverfity, on this account, necerfarily depreffes the
mind of the fafferer much more below its natural
ftate, Mri profperity can elevate him above it,
The fpectatcr, therefore, muft - fi ncl it much more
difficult to fympathize entirely, and keep perfect
F a time-,
68 Of P r o p r i e t V. Part 1.
tifne, with his forrow, than thoroughly to enter in-
to his joy, and muft depart much further from his
own natural and ordinary temper of mind in the one
cafe than in the other. It is on this account, that,
though our fympathy with forrow is often a more
pungent fenfation than our fympathy with joy, it al-
ways falls much more ihort of the violence of what
is naturally felt by the perfon principally concerned.
It is agreeable to fympathize with joy ; and
wherever envy does not oppofe it, our heart aban-
dons itfeif with fatisfa&ion to the highefl tranfports
of that delightful fentiment. But it is painful to
go along with grief, and we always enter into it
with reluctance*. When we attend to the repre-
fentation of a tragedy, we flruggle againft that fym-
pathetic forrow which the entertainment inspires as
long as we can, and we give way to it at lafl only
when we can no longer avoid it : we even then en-
deavour to cover our concern from the company.
If we fhed any tears, we carefully conceal them,
and are afraid left: the fpeclators, not entering into
this
* It has been objected to me that as T founcl the fentiment of
approbation, which is always agreeable, upon fympathy, it is in-
confiftent with my fyflem to admit any difagreeable fympathy. I
anfwer, that in the fentiment of approbation there are two things to
be taken notice of; firft the fympathetic paflion of the fpectator ;
and, fecondly, the emotion which arifes from his obferving the per-
fect coincidence between this fympathetic paffion in himfelf, and the
original paflion in the perfon principally concerned. This lafl: emo-
tion, in which the fentiment of approbation properly confilts, is al-
ways agreeable and delightful. The other may either be agreeable
or difagrcc.tble, according to the nature of the original paflion, whofe
feature it mud always, in fome meafure, retain. Two founds* I
(uppofe, may, each of them, taken firigly, be auftere, and yet, if
:!,/ v ire'perfe5l concords, the perception of their harmony and coia-
~e may be agreeable.
Sect. 3. Of P R O P R I E T Y. 69
this exceflive tendernefs, mould regard it as effemi-
nacy and weaknefs. The wretch whofe misfortunes
call upon our compallion feels with what reluctance
we are likely to enter into his forrow, and therefore
propofes his grief to us with fear and hefitation :
he even fmothers the half of it, and is amamed,
upon account of this hard-hearted nefs of mankind,
to give vent to the fulnefs of his affliction. ' It is o-
therwife with the man who riots in joy and fuccefs.
Wherever envy does not intereft us againfthim, he
expects our compleatefl fympathy. He does not fear,
therefore, to announce himfelf with fhouts of exul-
tation, in full confidence that we are heartily dif-
pofed to go along with him.
Why mould we be more amamed to weep than to
laugh before company ? We may often have as real
occafion to do the one as to do the other ■ But we al-
ways feel that the fpectators are more likely to go
along with us in the agreeable, than in the painful
emotion. It is always miferable to complain, even
when we are oppreffedbythe mofl dreadful calamities.
But the triumph of victory is not always ungraceful.
Prudence, indeed, would often advife us to bear pro-
fperity with more moderation -, becaufe prudence
would teach us to avoid that envy which this very
triumph is, more than any thing, apt to excite.
How hearty are the acclamations of the mob,
who never bear any envy to their fuperiors, at a
triumph or a public entry ? And how fedate and mo-
derate is commonly their grief at an execution ?
Our forrow at a funeral generally amounts to no
more than affected gravity; but our mirth at a
chriilening or a marriage, is always from the heart,
and without any affectation. Uponthefe, and all
fuch joyous occafions, our fatisfaction, though not fo
F 3 durable.
^o O/Propriety. Part I.
durable, is often as lively as that of the perfons
principally concerned. Whenever we cordially con-
gratulate our friends, which, however, to the dip-
grace of human nature, we do but feldom, their
joy literally becomes our joy; we are for the moment,
as happy as they are : our heart fwells and over-
flows with real pleafare : joy and complacency
fparkle from our eyes, and animate every fea-
ture of our countenance, and every gefture of our
body.
But, on the contrary, when we condole with our
friends in their afflictions, how little do we feel, in
comparifon of what they feel ? We fit down by
them, we look at them, and while they relate to us
the circumftances of their misfortune, we liften
to them with gravity and attention. But while their
narration is every moment interrupted by thofe na-
tural burfls of paflion which often feem almofl to
choak them in the midft of it - how far are the lan-
guid emotions of our hearts from keeping time to
the tranfports of theirs ?- We may be fenfible, at the
fame time, that their paflion is natural, and no
greater than what we .ourfelves might feel upon the
like occafion. We may even inwardly reproach our-
felves with our own want of fcnfibility, and per-
haps on that account, work ourfelves up into an ar-
tificial fympathy, which, however, when it is raifed,
is always the flightexl and moil tranfirory imagin-
able i and generally, as foon as we have left the
room, vaniihes, and is gone for ever. Nature, it
feerns, when flie has loaded us with our own far-
rows, thought that they were enough, and there-
fore did not command us to take any further (hare
in thofe of others, than what was necefiavy to
prompt us to relieve them.
It
Sect. 3. O/Propriety. 71
It is on account of this dull fenfibility to the af-
flictions of others, that magnanimity amidfl great
diftrefs appears always fo divinely graceful. His
behaviour is genteel and agreeable who can maintain
his chearfulnefs amidfl a number of frivolous dif-
aflers. . But he appears to be more than mortal who
can fupport in the fame manner the mod dreadful
calamities. We feel what an immenfe effort is re-
quifite to filence thofe violent emotions which natu-
rally agitate and diffract thofe in his fituation.
We are amazed to rind that he can command him-
felf fo intirely. His firmnefs, at the fame time,
perfectly coincides with our infenfibility. He makes
no demand upon us for that more exquifite de-
gree of fenfibility which we find, and which we
are mortified to find, that we do not poifefs. There
is the mofl perfect correfpondence between his fen-
timents and ours, and on that account the mofl per-
fect propriety in his behaviour. It is a propriety too,
which, from our experience of the ufual weak-
nefs of human nature, we could not reafonably have
expected he mould be able to maintain. We won-
der with furprife and aflonifhment at that flrength
of mind which is capable of fo noble and generous
an effort. The fentiment of compleat fympathy
and approbation, mixed and animated with won-
der and furprife, conflitutes what is properly called
admiration, as has already been more than once
taken notice of. Cato, furrounded on all fides by
his enemies, unable to refill them, and difdainingto
fubmit to them, and reduced by the proud maxims
of that age, to the neceflity of deflroying him-
felf ; yet never fhrinking from his misfortunes, ne-
ver fupplicating with the lamentable voice of wretch-
ednefs, thofe miferable fympathetic tears which we
are always fo unwilling to give ; but en the contrary,
F 4 arming
1% 0/ Propriety. Part I.
arming himfelf with manly fortitude, and the mo-
ment before he executes his fatal refolution, giving,
with his ufual tranquillity, all neceffary orders for
the fafety of his friends ; appears to Seneca, that
great preacher of infenfibility, a fpeclacle which
even the gods themfelves might behold with pleafure
and admiration.
Whenever we meet, in common life, with any
examples of fuch heroic magnanimity, we are al-
ways extremely affe&ed. We are more apt to weep
and Hied tears for fuch as, , in this manner, feem
to feel nothing for themfelves, than for thofe who
give way to all the weaknefs of forrow : and in this
particular cafe, the fympathetic grief of the fpedta-
tor appears to go beyond the original pafilon in the
perfon principally concerned. The friends of So-
crates all wept when he drank the laft potion, while
he himfelf expreffed the gay ell: and moil chearful
tranquillity. Upon ail fuch occafions the fpeclator
makes no effort, and has no occafion to make any,
in order to conquer his fympathetic forrow. He is
under no fear that it will tranfport him to any thing
that is extravagant and improper ^ he is rather pleafed
with the fenfibility of his own heart, and gives way.
to it wit;h complacence and felf-approbation. He
gladly indulges, therefore, the moll melancholy
views which can naturally occur to him, concerning
the calamity of his friend, for whom, perhaps, he
never felt fo exquifitely before, the tender and tearful
pafTion of love. But it is quite, otherwife with the
perfon principally concerned. He is obliged as much
as poflible, to turn away his eyes from whatever is
either naturally terrible or dlfasrreeable in his fltna-
tipn. Too ferious an attention to thofe circum-
(tances, he fears, might make fo violent an im-
preiiion,
Seft. 3. O/Propriety. 73
preflion upon him, that he could no longer keep
within the bounds of moderation, or render him-
felf the object of the complete fympathy and ap-
probation of the fpedtators. He fixes his thoughts,,
therefore, upon thofe only which are agreeable;
the applaufe and admiration which he is about to
deferve by the heroic magnanimity of his behaviour.
To feel that he is capable of fo noble and generous
an effort, to feel that in this dreadful fituation he can
Hill act. as he would defire to act, animates and tranf-
portshim with joy, and enables him to fupport that
triumphant gaiety which feems to exult in the vic-
tory he thus gains over his misfortunes.
On the contrary, he always appears, in fome
meafure, mean and defpicable, who is funk in
forrow and dejection upon account of any calamity
of his own. We cannot bring ourfelves to feel for
him what he feels for himfelf, and what, perhaps,
we mould feel for ourfelves if in his fituation : we,
therefore, defpife him ; unjuftly, perhaps, if any
fentiment could be regarded as unjuit, to which
we are by nature irrefiitibly determined. The weak-
nefs of forrow never appears in any refpedt agree-
able, except when it arifes from what we feel
for others more than from what we feel for
ourfelves. A fon, upon the death of an indulgent
and refpectable father, may give way to it without
much blame. His forrow is chiefly founded upon a
fort of fympathy with his departed parent • and we
readily enter into this humane emotion. But if he
mould indulge the fame weaknefs upon account cf
any misfortune which affected himfelf only, he
would no longer meet with any fuch indulgence.
If he mould be reduced to beggary and ruin, if he
mould
74. O/Propriety. ■ Part I.
ftiould be expofed to the moil dreadful dangers, if
he mould even be led out to a public execution, ^
and there fried one fmgle tear upon the fcarlold,
he would difgrace himfelf for ever in the opinion of
all the gallant and generous part of mankind. Their
compailion for him, however, would be very ilrong,
and very fincere ; but as it would ft ill fall fhort of
this exceflive weaknefs, they would have no pardon
for the man who could thus expofe himfelf in the
£yes of the world. His behaviour would affecl: them
with fhame rather than with forrow; andthedif-
honour which he had thus brought upon himfelf
would appear to them the moil lamentable circum-
ilance in his misfortune. How did it dilgrace the
memory of the intrepid Duke of Biron, who had
fo often braved death in the field, that he wept
upon the fcaffoid, when he beheld the ilate to which
he was fallen, and remembered the favour and the
glory from which his own ralhnefs had fo unfor-
tunately thrown him !
CHAP. If.
Of the origin of ambition, and of the diftinRion of
ranks.
.1 T is becaafe mankind are difpofed to fympa-
thize more entirely with our joy than with our for-
row, that we mafe parade of our riches, and con-
ceal our poverty. Nothing is fo mortifying as to
be
Sed. 3- 0/ Propriety. 75
be obliged to expofe our diftrefs to the view of the
public, and to feel, that though our fituation is
open to the eyes of all mankind, no mortal con-
ceives for us the half of what we fufFer. Nay, it
is chiefly from this regard to the fentiments o£
mankind, that we purfue riches and avoid poverty.
For to what purpofe is all the toil and buftle of
this world ? what is the end of avarice and arnbi^
tion, of the purfuit of wealth, of power, and pre-
eminence? Is it to fupply the neceflities of na-
ture ? The wages of the meaner! labourer can
fupply them. We fee that they afford him food
and cloathing, the comfort of a houfe, and of a fa^
mily. If we examine his ceconomy with rigor, we
mould find that he fpends a great part of them upon
conveniences, which may be regarded as fuperflui-
ties, and that, upon extraordinary occafions, he
can give fomething even to vanity and dillincYion,
What then is the caufe of our averfion to his fitua*
tion, and why mould' thofe who have been educated
in the higher ranks of life, regard it as worfe than
death, to be reduced to live, even without labour,
upon the fame fimple fare with him, to dwell un-
der the fame lowly roof, and to be cloathed in the
fame humble attire? Do they imagine that their
ftomach is better, or their fleep founder in a palace
than in a cottage ? the contrary has been 10 often
obferved, and, indeed, is fo very obvious, though it
had never been obferved, that there is no body ig-
norant of it. From whence, then, strifes that e-
mulation which runs through all the different ranks
of men, and what are the advantages which we
propofe by that great purpofe of human life which
we call bettering our condition ? 1o be obferved,
to
j6 O/Fropriety. Fart I.
to be attended to, to be taken notice of with fym-
pathy, complacency, and approbation, are all the
advantages which we can propofe to derive from
it. It is the vanity, not the eafe, or the pleafure,
which interefls us. But vanity is always founded
upon the belief of our being the object of atten-
tion and approbation. The rich man glories in
his riches, becaufe he feels that they naturally draw
upon him the attention of the world, .and that
mankind are diipofed to go along with him in all
thofe agreeable emotions with which the advan-
tages of his fituation i@ readily inipire him. At
the thought of this, his heart feems to fwell
and dilate itfelf within him, and he is fonder of
his wealth upon this account, than for all the
ether advantages it procures him. The poor man,
on the contrary, is afhamed of his poverty. He
feels that it either places him out of the fight of
mankind, or, that, if they take any notice of him,
they have, however, fcarce any fellow-feeling with
the mifery and diftrefs which he fuffers. He is
mortified upon both accounts ; for though to be
overlooked, and to be difapproved of, are things
entirely different, yet as obfeurity covers us from
the daylight of honour and approbation, to feel
that we are taken no notice of neceifarily damps
the raoft agreeable hope, and difappoints the moil
ardent defire, of human nature. The poor man
goes out and comes in unheeded, and when in the
midft of a croud is in the fame obfeurity as if (hut
up in his own hovel. Thofe humble cares and
painful attentions which occupy thojfe in his fitua-
tion, afford no amufement to the diiTipated and the
gay. They turn, away their eyes from him, or tf
the extremity cfn's diftrefs forces them to look
at
Sect. 3. 0/pROPRiETY, 77
at him, it is only to fpurn fo difagreeable an object
from among, them. The Fortunate and the proud
wonder at the infolence of human wretched nefs,
that it -mould dare to prefent itfelf before them,
and with the loathfome afpect of its mifery, pre-
fume to diflurb the ferenity of their happinefs. The
man of rank and distinction, on the contrary, is
obierved by all the world. Every body is eager to
look at him, and to conceive, at leaft by fyrrt-
pathy, that joy and exultation with which his
circumilances naturally infpire him. His actions
are the objects of the public care. Scarce a word
fcarce a gefture, can fall from him that is altoo-e-
ther neglected. In a great alfembly he is the perfon
upon whom all direct their eyes; it is upon him that
their paflions feem all to wait with expectation
in order to receive that movement and direction
which he mall imprefs upon them ; and if his
behaviour is not altogether abfurd, he has, eve-
ry moment, an opportunity of interefting man-
kind, and of rendering himfelf the objett of
the obfervation and fellow-feeling of every body
about him. It is this, which notwithstanding the
reftraint it impofes, notwithftanding the lofs of li-
berty with which it is attended, renders greatnefs
the object of envy, and compenfates in -the opi-
nion of mankind, all that toil, all that anxiety, all
thofe mortifications which muft be undergone in
the purfuit of it 5 and what is of yet more con-
fequence, all that leifare, ail that eafe, all that
careiefs fecurity, which are forfeited for ever by the
acquifition.
When we confider the condition of the great,
in thofe delufive colours in which the imagination
is apt to paint it, it feems to be almofl the ab-
ilract
^8 0/ Propriety. Part I.
ftrad idea of a perfect and happy Hate. It is the
very ftate which, in all our waking dreams and
idle reveries, we had iketched out to ourfelves as
the final object of all our defires. We feel, there-
fore, a peculiar fympathy with the fatisfa&ion of
thofe who are in it. We favour all their incli-
nations, and forward all their wifhes. What
pity, we think, that any thing mould fpoil and
corrupt fo agreeable a fituation ! We could even
wifh them immortal ; and it feems hard to us,
that death mould at laft put an end to fuch per-
fect enjoyment. It is cruel, we think, in Na-
ture, to compel them from their exalted ftations
to that humble, but hofpitable home, which me
has provided for all her children. Great King,
live for ever ! is the compliment, which after the
manner of eaftern adulation, we mould readily
make them, if experience did not teach us its
abfurdity. Every calamity that befals them, every
injury that is done them, excites in the breaft of
the fpectator ten times more companion and re-
fentment than he would have felt, had the fame
things happened to other men. It is the misfor-
tunes of Kings only which afford the proper fub-
jects for tragedy. They referable, in this re^
fpect, the misfortunes of lovers. Thofe two iitua-
tions are the chief which intereft us upon the
theatre ; becaufe, in fpite of all that reafon and
experience can tell us to the contrary, the pre-
judices of .the imagination attach to thefe two
l ftates a happinefs fuperior to any other. To dif-
turb, or to put an end to fuch perfect enjoy-
ment, feems to be the moil atrocious of all in-
juries. The traitor who confpires againit. the life
of his monarch, is thought a greater monfter than
any
Sect. 3. 0/ Propriety. 79
any other murderer. All the innocent blood that
was fried in the civil wars, provoked lefs indig-
nation than the death of Charles I. A itranger
to human nature, who faw the indifference of
men about the mifery of their inferiors, and the
regret and indignation which they feel for the
misfortunes and fufTerings of thoie above them,
would be apt to imagine, that pain muft be more
agonizing, and the convulfions of death more ter-
rible to perfons of higher rank, than to thofe of
meaner Nations. '
Upon this difpofition of mankind, to go along
with all the pailions of the rich and the powerful,
is founded the diftinction of ranks, and the order
of fociety. Our obfequioufnefs to our fuperiors
more frequently arifes from our admiration for
the advantages of their fituation, than from any
private expectations of benefit from their good-
will. Their benefits can extend but to a 'few ;
but their fortunes intereft almoft every body. We
are eager to allift them in compleating. a fyftem
of happinefs that approaches fo near to perfec-
tion ; and we defire to ferve them- for their own
fake, without any other recompenfe but the va-
nity or the honour of obliging them. Neither is
our deference to their inclinations founded chiefly,
or altogether, upon a regard to the utility of fuch
fubmiilion, and to the order of fociety, which is
bell fupported by it. Even when the order of fo-
ciety feems to require that we mould cppofe them,
we can hardly bring ourfelves to do it. That kings
are the fervants of the people, to be obeyed, re-
filled, depofed, or pumfhed, as the public con-
veniency may require, is the dcchLe of -afon
and philofophy- but it is not the 2 cf
N :ure.
So 0/ PkopRiETf. Part t.
Nature." Nature would teach, us to fubmit to
them, for their own fake, to tremble and bow
down before their exalted ftation, to regard their
fmile as a reward fufficient to compenfate any
fervices, and to dread their difpleafure, though
no other evil was to follow from it, as the fe-
verelt of all mortifications. To treat them in
any refpedt as men, to reafon and difpute with
them upon ordinary occafions, requires fuc'h re-
folution, that there are few men whofe magna-
nimity can fupport them in it, unlefs they are
likewife aflilted by familiarity and acquaintance.
The Itrongelt motives, the molt furious . paflions,
fear, hatred, and refentment, are fcarce fufficient
to balance this natural difpofition to refpedt them :
and their conduct mult, either jultly or unjuitly,
have excited the higheft degree of all thofe paf-
lions, before the bulk of the people can be brought
to oppofe them With violence, or to defire to fee
them either punifhed or depofed. Even when
the people have been brought this length, they
are apt to relent every moment, and eafiiy re-
lapfe into their habitual Itate of deference to thofe
whom they have been acciiltomed to look upon
as their natural fuperiors. They cannot Hand the
mortification of their monarch. Companion foon
takes the place of refentment, they forget all paft
provocations, their old principles of loyalty re-
vive, and they run to re-eitablifh the ruined au-
thoritv of -their old mailer, with the fame vio-
lence with which they had oppofed it. The death
of Charles I. brought about the -Reiteration of the
royal family. Companion for James II. when he
was feized by thev populace in making his efcape
on (hip-board* had slmolt prevented the Re-
volution.
Seel. 3. Of Propriety. 81
volution, and made it go on more heavily than
before.
Do the great feem infenfible of the eafy price
at which they may acquire the public admiraj
tion ; or do they feem to imagine that to them,
as to other men, it muft be the purchafe either of
fweat or of blood? By what important accom-
pliihments is the young nobleman inftrudted to
fupport the dignity of his rank, and to render
himfelf worthy of that fuperiority over his fellow-
citizens, to which the virtue of his anceftors had
raifed them? Is it by knowledge, by induftry,
by patience, by felf-denial, or by virtue of any
kind ? As all his words, as all his motions are
attended to, he learns an habitual regard to every
circumftance of ordinary behaviour, and fludies to
perform al) thofe fmall duties with the raoft ex-
act propriety. As he is confeious how much he
is obferved, and how much mankind are difpofed
to favour all his inclinations, he acts, upon the
mod indifferent occafions, with that freedom and
elevation which the thought of this naturally
infpires. His air, his manner, his deportment, all
mark that elegant and graceful fenfe of his own
fuperiority, Which thofe who are born to inferior
ftations can hardly ever arrive at : thefe are the
arts by which he propofes to make mankind more
eafily fubmit to his authority, and to govern their
inclinations according to his own pleafure : and
in this he is feldom difappointed. Thefe arts,
fupported by rank and pre-eminence, are, upon
ordinary occafions, furncient to govern the world.
Lewis XIV. during the greater part of his reign,
was regarded, not only in France? but over all
G Europe,
82 0/ Propriety. Parti.
Europe, as the moil perfect model of a great
prince. But what were the talents and virtues by
which he acquired this great reputation ? Was it
by the fqrupulous and inflexible juftice^ of all his
undertakings, by the immenfe dangers and dif-
ficulties with which they were attended, or by
the unwearied and unrelenting application with
which he purfued them ? Was it by his extenfive
knowledge, by his exquifite judgment, or by his
lieroic valour? It was by none of thefe -qualities.
But he was, firfl of all, the moll powerful prince
in Europe, and confequently held the higheft rank
among kings ; and then, fays his hiftorian, u he
" furpaiTed all his courtiers in the gracefulnefs of
" his ihape, and the majeftic beauty of his features.
V The found of his voice, noble and arTedling,
" gained thofe hearts which his prefence intimi-
" dated. He had a ftep and deportment which
" could fuit only him and his rank, and which
" would have been ridiculous in any other per-
" fon. The embarraflment which he occafioned
" to thofe who fpoke to him, flattered that fecret
" fatisfa&ion with which be felt his own fuperi-
" ority. The old officer, who was confounded
" and faultered in afking him a favour, and not
" being able to conclude his difcourfe, faidtchim,
<c Sir, your majefty, I hope, will believe that I
" do not tremble thus before your enemies : had
" no difficulty to obtain what he demanded.'*
Thefe frivolous accomplifnments, fupported by his
rank, and, no doubt, too, by a degree of other
talents and virtues, which feems, however, not
to have been much above mediocrity, eftablifhed
this prince in the efleem of his own age, and
have drawn? even from pofterity, a good deal of
refpeft
Sed. 3. O/Propriety, 83
refpecl: for his memory. Compared with thofe
of his own times, and in his own prefence, no
other virtue, it feems, appeared to have any me-
rit. Knowledge, induftry, valour, and beneficence,
trembled, were abafhed, and loft all dignity be-
fore them.
But it is not by accomplishments of this kind,
that the man of inferior rank mud hope to di-
flinguifh himfelf. Politenefs is fo much the virtue
of the great, that it will do little honour to any
body but themfelves. The coxcomb, who imi-
tates their manner, and affects to be eminent by
the fuperior propriety of his ordinary behaviour,
is rewarded with a double fhare of contempt for his
folly and prefumption. Why mould the man, whom
nobody thinks it worth while to look at, be very
anxious about the manner in which he holds up his
head, or difpofes of his arms while he walks through
a room ? He is occupied furely with a very Super-
fluous attention, and with an attention too that
marks a fenfe of his own importance, which no
other mortal can go along with. The moft per-
fect modefly and plainnefs, joined to as much ne-
gligence as is confident with the refpect due to
the company, ought to be the chief charadterif-
tics of the behaviour of a private man. If ever
he hopes to diftinguifh himfelf, it muft be by
more important virtues. He muft acquire de-
pendants to balance the dependants of the great,
and he has no other fund to pay them from,
but the labour of his body, and the activity of
his mind. He muft cultivate thefe therefore : he
muft acquire fuperior knowledge in his profeflion,
and fuperior induftry in the exercife of it. He
G 2 muft
84 Qf Propriety,' Part I.
muft be patient in labour, refolute in danger, and
firm in diftrefs. Thefe talents he muft bring into-
public view, by the difficulty, importance, and, at
the fame time, good judgment of his undertakings,
and by the fevere and unrelenting application
with which he purfues them. Probity and pru-
dence, generofity and franknefs, muft characte-
rize his behaviour upon all ordinary occafions ;
and he muft, at the fame time, be forward to
engage in all thofe fituations in which it requires
the greateft talents and virtues to act with pro-
priety, but in which the greateft applaufe is to
be acquired by thofe who can acquit themfelves
with honour. With what impatience does the man
of fpirit and ambition, who is deprelfed by his
fituation, look round for fome great oppor-
tunity to diftinguifh himfelf? No circumftances,
which can afford this, appear to him undefirable.
He even looks forward with fatisfaclion to the
profpect of foreign war, or civil diffenfion • and,
with feeret tranfport and delight, fees through
all the confufion and bloodfhed which attend them,
the probability of thofe wifhed for occafions prefent-
ing themfelves, in which he may draw upon him-
felf the attention and admiration of mankind. The
man of rank and diftinction, on the contrary,
whofe whole glory confifts in the propriety of his
ordinary behaviour, who is contented with the
humble renown which this can afford him, and
has no talents to acquire any other, is unwilling
to embarrafs himfelf with what can be attended
either with difficulty or diftrefs. To figure at a
ball is his great triumph, and to fucceed in
an intrigue of ^gallantry, his higheft exploit. He
has an averfion to all public confufions, not from
the
Sect. 3. Of P R O P R I E T y. 85
the love of mankind, for the great never look
upon their inferiors as their fellow-creatures ; nor
yet from want of courage, for in that he is fel-
dom defective ; but from a confcioumefs that he
porTefles none of the virtues which are required
in fuch fituations, and that the public attention
will certainly be drawn away from him by others.
He may be willing to expofe himfelf to fome
little danger, and to make a campaign when it
happens to be the fafhion. But he fh udders with
horror at the thought of any fituation which de-
mands the continual and long exertion of patience,
induftry, fortitude, and application of thought.
Thefe virtues are hardly ever to be met with in
men who are born to thofe high ftations. In all go-
vernments accordingly, even in monarchies, the
'higher! offices are generally pofTeifed, and the whole
detail of the adminiltration conducted by men who
were educated in the middle and inferior ranks of
life, who have been carried forward by their own
jndurtry and abilities, though loaded with the
jealoufy, and oppofed by the refentment of all thofe
who were born their fuperiors, and to whom the
great, after having regarded them firfh with con-
tempt, and afterwards with envy, are at laft con-
tented to truckle with the fame abject meannefs
with which they defire that the reft of mankind
mould behaye to themfelves.
It is the lofs of this eafy empire over the af -
feet ions of mankind which renders the fall from
greatnefs fo infupportable. When the family of
the King of Macedon was led in triumph by
Paulus jEmilius, their misfortunes, it is faid, made
them divide with their conqueror the attention
G 3 of
26 Of Propriety. Parti.
of the Romon people. The fight of the royal
children, whofe tender age rendered them infen-
fible of their fituation, ftruck the fpettators, a-
midft the public rejoicings and profperity, with
the tendered forrow and companion. The King
appeared next in the procefTion - and feemed like
one confounded and aftonifhed, and bereft of all
fentiment, by the greatnefs of his calamities. His
friends and minifters followed after him. As they
moved along, they often call: their eye upon their
fallen fovereign, and always bur It into tears at the
fight ; their whole behaviour demonflrating that
they thought not of their misfortunes, but were
occupied entirely by the fuperior greatnefs of his.
The generous Romans, on the contrary, beheld
him with difdain and indignation, and legarded
as unworthy of all companion the man who could
be fo mean-fpirited as to bear to live under fuch
calamities. Yet what did thofe calamities amount
to ? According to the greater part of hiftorians,
he was to fpend the remainder of his days un-
der the protection of a powerful and humane
people, in a itate which in itfelf fhould feem
worthy of envy, a flate of plenty, eafe, leifure, and
fecurity, from which it was impoflible for him
even by his own folly to fall. But he was no
longer to be furrounded by that admiring mob
of fools, flatterers, and dependants, who had for-
merly been accuflomed to attend upon all his
motions. He was no longer to be gazed upon
by multitudes, nor to have it in his power to
render himfelf the object of their refpect, their
gratitude, their love, their admiration. The paf-
fions of nations vwere no longer to mould them-
felves
Sett. 3. 0/ Propriety, 87
felves upon his inclinations. This was that infup-
portable calamity which bereaved the King of all
fentiment ; which made his friends forget their own
misfortunes ; and which the Roman magnanimity
could fcarce conceive how any man could be fo
mean-fpirited as to bear to furvive.
" Love, fays my Lord Rochfoucault, is com-
*4 monly fucceeded by ambition • but ambition
" is hardly ever fucceeded by love." That paf-
fion when once it has got entire pofTeflion of
the breail, will admit neither a rival nor a fuc-
ceflbr. To thofe wIiq have been accuftomed to
the poffeifion, or even to the hope of public ad-
miration, all other pleafures ficken and decay. Of
all the difcarded ftatefmen who for their own
eafe have fludied to get the better of ambition,
and to defpife thofe honours which they couhi no
longer arrive at, how few have been able to fuc-
ceed ? The greater part have fpent their time in
the moll lifllefs and infipid indolence, chagrined
at the thoughts of their own infignificancy, in-
capable of being interefled in the occupations
of private life, without enjoyment except when
they talked of their former greatnefs, and with-
out fatisfadtion except when they were employed
in fome vain project to recover it. Are you in
earneft refolved never to barter your liberty for
the lordly fervitude of a Court, but to live free,
fearlefs, and independent ? There feems to be one
way to continue in that virtuous refolution ; and
perhaps but one. Never enter the place from
whence fo few have been able to return j never
come within the circle of ambition ; nor even bring
yourfelf into comparifon with thofe mailers of the
G 4 earth
88 0/ Propriety. Part I.
earth who have already engroiTed the attention of
half mankind before you.
Of fuch mighty importance does it appear to be,
in the imaginations of men, to fland in that fituation
which fets them moft in the view of general fympa-
thy and attention. And thus, place, that great ob-
ject which divides the wives of aldermen, is the end
of half the labours of life • and is the caufe of all the
tumult and buttle, all the rapine and injuftice, which
avarice and ambition have introduced into this world.
People of fenfe, it is faid, indeed defpife place •, that
is, they defpife fitting at the head of the table, and
are indifferent who it is that is pointed out to the
company by that frivolous circumflance, which the
fmalleft advantage is capable of overbalancing. But
rank, diflindtion, pre-eminence, no man defpifes,
unlefs he is either raifed very much above, or funk
very much below, the ordinary itandard of human
nature; unlefs he is either fo confirmed in wifdom
and real philofophy, as to be fatished that, while the
propriety of his conduft renders him the juft object
of approbation, it is of little confequence though he
be neither attended to, nor approved of; or fo habi-
tuated to the idea of his own rheannefs, fo funk in
flothful and fottifh indifference, as entirely to have
forgot the defire, and almoft the very wifh, for fu-
periority.
CHAP.
Sed. 3. Of Propriety, 89
CHAP. III.
Of the fiolcal philofophy.
w,
HEN we examine in this manner into the
ground of the different degrees of eftimation which
mankind are apt to beftow upon the different con-
ditions of life, we (hall find, that the exceflive pre-
ference, which they generally give to fome of them
above others, is in a great meafure without any
foundation. If to be able to act with propriety,
and to render ourfelves the proper objects of the ap-
probation of mankind, be, as we have been endea-
vouring to mow, what chiefly recommends to us
one condition above another, this may equally be
attained in them all. The noblelt propriety of con-
duel: may be fupported in adverfity, as well as in
profperity ; and though it is fomewhat more difficult
in the firft, it is upon that very account more ad-
mirable. Perils and misfortunes are not only the
proper fchool of heroifm, they are the only proper
theatre which can exhibit its virtue to advantage,
and draw upon it the full applaufe of the world.
The man, whofe whole life has been one even and
uninterrupted courfe of profperity, who never braved
any danger, who never encountered any difficulty,
who never furmounted any diftrefs, can excite but
an inferior degree of admiration. When poets and
romance-writers endeavour to invent a train of ad-
ventures, which fhall give the greater!: luflre to thofe
characters
90 0/ P r o p r i e t y. Part L
characters for whom they mean to interefl us, they
are all of a different kind. They are rapid and fud-
den changes of fortune, fituations the moil: apt to
drive thofe who are in them to frenzy and diftraction,
or to abject defpair ; but in which their heroes act
with fo much propriety, or at leaft with fo much
ipirit and undaunted refolution, as ftill to command
our efleem. Is not the unfortunate magnanimity of
£ato, Brutus, and Leonidas, as much the object of
admiration, as that of the fuccefsful Caefar or Alex-
ander ? To a generous mind, therefore, ought it not
to be as much the object of envy ? If a more daz-
zling fplendor feems to attend the fortunes of fuc-
cefsful conquerors, it is becaufe they join together
the advantages of both fituations, the luflre of prof-
perity to the high admiration which is excited by
dangers encountered, and difficulties furmounted,
with intrepidity and valour.
It was upon this account that, according to the
iloical philofophy, to a wife man all the different
conditions of life were equal. Nature, they laid,
had recommended fome objects to our choice, and
others to our difapprobation. Our primary appe^
tites directed us to the purfuit of health, ftrength,
eafe, and perfection, in all the qualities of mind and
body; and of whatever could promote or fecure
thefe, riches, power, authority : and the fame ori-
ginal principle taught us to avoid the contrary. But
in chufing or rejecting, in preferring or poftponing,
thofe firft objects of original appetite and averfion,
Nature had likewife taught us, that there was a cer-
tain order, propriety, and grace, to be obferved, of
infinitely greater confequence to happinefs and per-
fection,
Se&. 3. O/Propriety. 91
fection, than the attainment of thofe objects them-
felves. The objects of our primary appetites or
aversions were to be purfued or avoided, chiefly
becaufe a regard to this grace and propriety requir-
ed fuch conduct. In directing all our actions ac-
cording to thefe, confided the happinefs and glory
of human nature. In departing from thofe rules
which they prefcribed to us, its greater! wretched-
nefs and moft complete depravity. The outward
appearance of this order and propriety was indeed
more eafily maintained in fome circumftances than
in others. To a fool, however, to one whofe paf-
fions were fubjected to no proper controul, to act
with real grace and propriety, was equally impof-
fible in every fituation. Though the giddy multi-
tude might admire him, though his vanity might
fometimes be elevated by their ignorant praifes into
fomething that refembled felf-approbation, yet flill
when he turned his view to what palled within his
own breaft, he was fecretly confcious to himfelf of
the abfurdity and meannefs of all his motives, and
inv/ardly blufhed and trembled at the thoughts of
the contempt which he knew he defer ved, and
which mankind would certainly bellow upon him
if they faw his conduct in the light in which in his
own heart he was obliged to regard it. To a wife
man, on the contrary, to one whofe pafTions were
all brought under perfect fubjection to the ruling
principles of his nature, to reafon and the love of
propriety, to act fo as to deferve approbation was
equally eafy upon all occafions. Was he in profpe-
rity, he returned thanks to Jupiter for having join-
ed him with circumftances which were eafily maf-
tered, and in which there was little temptation to
do wrong. Was he in adverfity, he equally, re-
turned
92 Of Propriety. Part I.
turned thanks to the director of this fpec-
tacle of human life, for having oppofed to him a
vigorous athlete, over whom, though the 'con tell:
was likely to be more violent, the victory was more
glorious, and equally certain. Can there be any
fhame in that difLefs which is brought upon us with^
out any fault of cur own, and in which we behave
with perfect propriety ? There can therefore, be no
evil, but, on the contrary, the greateit good and ad-
vantage. A brave man exults in thofe dangers, in
which, from no rafhnei's of his own, his fortune has
involved him. They afford an opportunity of ex-
ercifing that heroic intrepidity, whole exertion gives
the exalted delight which flows from the coniciouf-
nefs of fuperior propriety and deferved admiration.
One who is mailer of all his exercifes has no averfion
to meafure his flrength and activity with the ftrong-
eft. And in the fame manner, one who is mafter
of all his pafTions, does not dread any circumfiances
in which the fuperintendant of the univerfe may
think proper to place him. The bounty of that Di-r
vine Being has provided him with virtues which ren-^
der him fuperior to every fituation. If it is pleafure,
he has temperance to refrain from it ; if it is pain,
he has conflancy to bear it ; if it is danger or death,
he has magnanimity and fortitude to defpife it. He
never complains of the defliny of providence, nor
thinks the univerfe in confufion when he is out of
order. He does not look upon himfelf, according
to what felf-love would fuggeft, as a whole, fepa-
rated and detached from every other part of nature,
to be taken care of by itfelf, and for itfelf. He re-
gards himfelf in the light in which he imagines the
great Genius of human nature, and of the world,
regards him. rfe enters, if I may fay fo, into the
fentiments.
Sed. 3. O/Propriety, 93
fentiments of that Divine Being, and confiders him-
felf as an atom, a particle, of an immenfe and infi-
nite fyftem, which muft, and ought to be difpofed
of, according to the conveniency of the whole. Af-
fured of the wifdom which directs all the events of
human life, whatever lot befalls him, he accepts it
with joy, fatisfied that, if he had known all the con-
nexions and dependencies of the different parts of
the univerfe,.it is the very lot which he himfelf would
have wilhed for. If it is life, he is contented to
live : and if it is death, as Nature muft have no fur-
ther occafion for his prefence here, he willingly goes
where he is appointed. I accept, laid a floical phi-
lolbpher, with equal joy and fa tisf action, whatever
fortune can befal me. Riches or poverty, pleafure
or pain, health or ficknefs, all is alike : nor would
I defire that the gods mould in any refpect change
my deflination. If I was to afk of them any thing,
beyond what their bounty has already bellowed, it
mould be that they would inform me beforehand
what it was their pleafure mould be done with me,
that I might of my own accord place myfelf in this
fituation, and demonflrate the chearfulnefs with
which I embraced their allotment. If I am going
to fail, fays Epictetus, I chufe the bell fhip, and the
befl pilot, and I wait for the faireit weather that my
circumftances and duty will allow. Prudence and
propriety, the principles which the gods have given
me for the direction of my conduct, require this of
me i but they require no more : and if, notwith-
ftanding, a ftorm arifes, which neither the ftrength
of the veflel, nor the fkill of the pilot are likely to
withftand, I give myfelf no trouble about the con-
fequence. All that I had to do, is done already.
The directors of my conduct never command me
to
SAr O/Proprtety. Part I.
to be miferable, to be anxious, defponding, or
afraid. Whether we are to be drowned, or to come
to a harbour, is the bufinefs of Jupiter, not mine.
I leave it entirely to his determination, nor ever
break my reft with confidering which way he is
likely to decide it, but receive whatever comes with
equal indifference and fecurity.
Such was the philofophy of the ftoics ; a philpr-
fophy which affords the nobleft leifons of magnani-
mity, is the belt fchool of heroes and patriots, and
to the greater part of whofe precepts there can be
no objection, except that honourable one, that they
teach us to aim at a perfection altogether beyond
the reach of human nature. I fhall not at prefent
ftop to examine it. I fhall only obferve, in confir-
mation of what has formerly been faid, that the
molt dreadful calamities are not always thofe which
it is moll difficult to fupport. It is often more mor-
tifying to appear in publick, under fmall difafters,
than under great misfortunes. The firft excite no
fympathy ; but the fecond, though they may excite
none that approaches to the anguifh of the fufferer,
callforth, however, a very lively companion. The
fentiments of the fpe&ators are, in this laft cafe,
therefore, lefs wide of thofe of the fufferer, and
their imperfect fellow-feeling lends him fome afiifl-
ancein Supporting his mifery. Before a gay aiTem-
bly, a gentleman would be more mortified to ap-
pear covered with filth and. rags than with blood
and wounds. This laft fituation would intereft
their pity ; the other would provoke their laughter.
The judge who orders a criminal to be fet in the
pillory, difhonours him: more than if he had con-
demned him to the fcaffold. The great prince,
who?
Sect. 3. O/Propriety. 05
who, fome years ago, caned a general officer at the
head of his army, difgraced him irrecoverably.
The punifhment would have been much lefs had he
fhot him through the body. By the laws of ho-
nour, to flrike with a cane difhonours, to ftrike with
a fword does not, for aft obvious reafon. Thofe
flighter punifhments when inflicted on a gentleman,
to whom dishonour is the greater!: of all evils, come
to be regarded among a humane and generous peo-
ple, as the moll dreadful of any. With regard to
perfons of that rank, therefore, they are univerfally
laid afide, and the law, while it takes their life up-
on many occafions, refpecls their honour upon al-
moft all. To fcourge a perfon of quality, or to
fet him in the pillory, upon account of any crime
whatever, is a brutality of which no European go-
vernment, except that of Rullia, is capable.
A brave man is not rendered contemptible by be-
ing brought to the fcaffbld; he is, by being fet in
the pillory. His behaviour in the one fituation may
gain him univerfal efteem and admiration. No be-
haviour in the other can render him agreeable. The
fympathy of the fpectators fupports him in the one
cafe, and faves him from that fliame, that confciouf-
nefs that his mifery is felt by himfelf only, which is
of all fentiments the moil unfupportable. There is
no fympathy in the other ; or, if there is any, it is
not with his pain, which is a trifle, but with his con-
icioufnefs of the want of fympathy with which this
pain is attended. It is with his fhame, not with
his forrow. Thofe who pity him, blufh and hang
down their heads for him. He droops in the fame
manner, and feels himfelf irrecoverably degraded
by the punifhment, though not by the crime. The
man,
96 O/Propriety. Part L
man, on the contrary, who dies with resolution, as
he is naturally regarded with the erect afpect of ef-
teem and approbation, fo he wears himfelf the fame
undaunted countenance ; and, if the crime does
not deprive him of the refpect of others* the punifh-
ment never will. He- has no fufpicion that his fili-
ation is the object of contempt or derifion to any
body, and he can, with propriety, affume the air,
not only of perfect ferenity, but of triumph and
exaltation.
" Great dangers, fays the Cardinal de Retz, have
" their charms, becaufe there is fome glory to be
" got, even when we mifcarry. But moderate dan-
" gers have nothing but what is horrible, becaufe
" the lofs of reputation always attends the want of
" fuccefs." His maxim has the fame foundation
with what we have been juft now obferving with re-
gard to punifhments.
Human virtue is fuperior to pain, to poverty, to
danger, and to death ; nor does it even require its
utmoft efforts to defpife them. But to have its mi-
fery expofed to infult and derifion, to be led in
triumph, to be fet up for the hand of fcorn to point
at, is a fituation in which its conftancy is much more
apt to fail. Compared with the contempt of man-
kind, all other evils are eafily fupported.
PART
PART II.
Of Merit and Demerit; of, of the Ob-
jects of Reward and Punishment.
Consisting of three Sections.
SECTION I.
Of the fenfc of merit and demerit.
INTRODUCTION,
A HERE is another fet of qualities afcribed to
the actions and conduct of mankind, diftinct from
their propriety or impropriety, their decency or un-
gracefulnefs, and which are the objects of a diftinct
fpecies of approbation and disapprobation. Thefe
are merit and demerit, the qualities of deferving
reward, and of deferving punifhment.
It has already been obferved, that the fentiment
or affection of the heart, from which any action
proceeds, and upon which its whole virtue or vice
depends, may be confidered under two different af-
pects, or in two different relations : firft, in rela-
tion to the caufe or object which excites it ; and,
fecondly, in relation to the end which it propofes,
H or
98 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
or to the effect which it tends to produce : that up-
on the fuitablenefs or unfuitablenefs, upon the pro-
portion or difproportion, which the affection feems
to bear to the caufe or object which excites it, de-
pends the propriety or impropriety, the decency or
ungracefulnefs of the confequent action ; and that
upon the beneficial or hurtful effects which the affec-
tion propofes or tends to produce, depends the me-
rit or demerit, the good or ill defert of the action
to which it gives occafion. Wherein confifts our
fenfe of the propriety or impropriety of actions, has
been explained in the former part of this difcourfe.
We come now to confider, wherein confifts that of
their good or ill defert.
CHAP. I.
That whatever appears to be the proper objetl of gratitude^
appears to deferve reward; and that, in the fame man-
ner', whatever appears to he the proper objeB of re-
fentment, appears to deferve punijhment.
O us, therefore, that action mull appear to de-
ferve reward, which appears to be the proper and
approved object of that fentiment, which mofl im-
mediately and directly prompts us to reward, or to
do good to another. And in the fame manner,
that action muft appear to deferve punifhment,
which appears to be the proper and approved object
of that fentiment which mofl: immediately and di-
rectly prompts us to publifli, or inflict evil upon
another. x
The
Sect. I. Of Merit W Demerit, gg
The fentiment which mofl immediately and di-
rectly prompts us to reward, is gratitude; that which
moft immediately and directly prompts us to punifli,
is refentment.
To us, therefore, that action muft appear to de-
ferve reward, which appears to be the proper and ap-
proved object of gratitude ; as, on the other hand,
that action mufl appear to deferve punifhment,
which appears to be the proper and approved object
of refentment.
To reward, is to recompenfe, to remunerate, to
return good for good received. To punifh, too, is
to recompenfe, to remunerate, though in a different
manner ; it is to return evil for evil that has been
done.
There are fome other pafTions, befides gratitude
and refentment, which intereft us in the happinefs or
mifery of others ; but there are none which fo di-
rectly excite us to be the inftruments of either. The
love and elteem which grow upon acquaintance and
habitual -approbation, neceffarily lead us to be pleafed
with the good fortune of the man who is the object
of fuch agreeable emotions, and confequently, to be
willing to lend a hand to promote it. Our love,
however, is fully fatisfied, though his good fortune
mould be brought about without our arTiflance. All
that this paflion defires is to fee him happy, without
regarding who was the author of his prosperity. But
gratitude is not to be fatisfied in this manner. If the
perfon to whom we owe many obligations, is made
happy without our affiftance, though it pleafes Our
love, it does not content our gratitude. Till we
H 2 have
ioo Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
have recompenfed him, till we ourfelves have been
inftrumental in promoting his happinefs, we feel our-
felves flill loaded with that debt which his paft fer-
vices have laid upon us.
The hatred and diflike, in the fame manner,
which grow upon habitual difapprobation, would of-
ten lead us to take a malicious pleafure m the misfor-
tune of the man whofe conduct and character excite
fo painful a paflion. But though diflike and hatred
harden us againfl all fympathy, and fometimes dif-
pofe us even to rejoice at the diftrefs of another, yet,
if there is no refentment in the cafe, if neither we
nor our friends have received any great perfonal pro-
vocation, thefe paffions would not naturally lead us to
wifh to be inftrumental in bringing it about. Tho*
we could fear no punifhment in confequence of*our
having had fome hand it, we would rather that it
fhould happen by other means. To one under the
dominion of violent hatred it would be agreeable,
perhaps, to hear, that the perfon whom he abhorred
and detefted was killed by fome accident. But if he
had the leafl fpark of jultice, which, though this paf-
fion is not very favourable to virtue, he might flill
have, it would hurt him exceflively to have been him-
felf, even without defign, the occafion of this misfor-
tune. Much more would the very thought of volun-
tarily contributing to it fhock him beyond all meafure.
He would reject with horror even the imagination of
fo execrable a defign ; and if he could imagine him-
felf capable of fuch an enormity, . he would begin to
regard himfelf in the fame odious light in which he
had confidered the perfon who was the object of
his diflike. But>it is quite otherwife with refentment:
if
Sect, i. 0/ Merit and Demerit. ioi
if the peribn who had done us fome great injury,
who had murdered our father or our brother, for ex-
ample, mould foon afterwards die of a fever, or even
be brought to the fcaffold upon account of fome other
crime, though it might footh our hatred, it would not
fully gratify our refentment. Refentment would
prompt us to defire, not only that he fhould be pu-
nifhed, but that he mould be punifhed by our means,
and upon account of that particular injury which he
had done to us. Refentment cannot be fully grati-
fied, unlefs the offender is not only made to grieve in
his turn, but to grieve for that particular wrong
which we have furfered from him. He muft be
made to repent and be forry for this very action, that
others, through fear of the like punifhment, may be
terrified from being guilty of the like offence. The
natural gratification of this paffion tends, of i^s own
accord, to produce all the political ends of punifh-
ment ; the correction of the criminal, and the exairn
pie to the public.
Gratitude and refentment, therefore, are the fenti-
ments which mod immediately and directly prompt
to reward and to punifli. To us, therefore, he muft
appear to deferve reward, who appears to be the
proper and approved object of gratitude ; and he to
deferve punifhment, who appears to be that of re-
fentment.
H 3 CHAP.
T>>.
103 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II,
CHAP. II.
Of the proper objefts of gratitude and refentment.
A 0 be the proper and approved object either of
gratitude or refentment, can mean nothing but to
be the object of that gratitude, and of that refent-
ment, which naturally feems proper, and is ap-
proved of.
Eut thefe, as well as all the other paflions of hu^
man nature, feem proper and are approved of, when
the heart of every impartial fpeftator entirely fym-
pathizes with them, when every indifferent by-
ftander entirely enters into, and goes along with
them.
He, therefore, appears to deferve reward, who,
to fome perfon or perfons, is the natural object of
a gratitude which every human heart is difpofed to
beat time to, and thereby applaud : and he, on the
other hand, appears to deferve punishment, who
in the fame manner is to fome perfon or perfons the
natural object of a refentment which the breaft of
every reafonable man is ready to adopt and fym-
pathize with. To us, furely, that a&ion mull ap-
pear to deferve reward, which every body who
knows of it would wifh to reward, and therefore
delights
Sedt. i. Of Merit WDemerit. 103
delights to fee rewarded : and that adtion rnuft as
furely appear to deferve punifhment, which every-
body who hears of it is angry with, and upon that
account rejoices to fee punifhed.
1. As we fympathize with the jay of our compa-
nions when in profperity, fo we join with them in the
complacency and fatisfadtion with which they natu-
rally regard whatever is the caufe of their good for-
tune. We enter into the love and affection which
they conceive for it, and begin to love it too. We
mould be forry for their fakes if it was deftroyed, or
even if it was placed at too great a diftance from
them, and out of the reach of their care and protecti-
on, though they fhouid lofe nothing by its abfence
except the pleafure of feeing it. If it is man who
has thus been the fortunate inflrument of the happi-
nefs of his brethren, this is ftill more peculiarly the
cafe. When we fee one man aiiifled, protected, re-
lieved by another, our fympathywith the joy of the
perfon who receives the benefit ferves only to animate
our fellow-feeling with his gratitude towards him
who bellows it. When we look upon the perfon
who is the caufe of his pleafure with the eyes with
which we imagine he muft look upon him, his bene-
factor feems to ftand before us in the moil engaging
and amiable light. We readiiy therefore fympathize
with the grateful affection which he conceives for
a perfon to whom he has been fo much obliged ; and
confequently applaud the returns which he is difpof-
ed to make for the good offices conferred upon him.
As we entirely enter into the affection from which
thefe returns proceed, they neceffarily feem every
way proper and fuitable to their object.
H 4 2. In
104 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II f
2. In the fame manner, as we fympathize with
the forrow of our fellow -creature whenever we fee
his diftrefs, fo we likewife enter into his abhorrence
and averfion for whatever has given occafion to it.
Our heart, as it adopts and beats time to his grief, fo
is it likewife animated with that fpirit by which he
endeavours to drive away or deftroy the caufe of it.
The indolent and paflive fellow-feeling, by which we
accompany him in his fufTerings, readily gives way
to that more vigorous and active fentiment by which
we go along with him in the effort he makes, either
to repel them, or to gratify his averfion to what has
given occafion to them. This is (till more peculiarly
the cafe, when it is man who has caufed them.
When we fee one man oppreffed or injured by an-
other, the fympathy which we feel with the diftrefs
of the fufferer feems to ferve only to animate our
fellow-feeling with his refentment againfl the offend-
er. We are rejoiced to fee him attack his adverfary
in his turn, and are eager and ready to aflift him
whenever he exerts himfelf for defence, or even for
vengeance within a certain degree. If the injured
mould perifh in the quarrel, we not only fympathize
with the real refentment of his friends and relations,
but with the imaginary refentment which in fancy
we lend to the dead, who is no longer capable of
feeling that or any other human fentiment. But as
we put ourfelves in his fituation, as we enter, as it
were, into his body, and in our imaginations, in fome
meafure, animate anew the deformed and mangled
carcafs of the flain, when we bring home in this man^
ner his cafe to our own bofoms, we feel upon this, as
upon many other occafions, an emotion which the
x perfon
Seel:, i. Of Merit ^Demerit. 105
perfon principally concerned is incapable of feeling,
and which yet we feel by anillufive fympathy with
him. The fym pathetic tears which we fhed for
that immenfe and irretrievable lofs, which in our
fancy he appears to have {Villained, feern to be but a
fmallpart of the duty which we owe him. The in-
jury which he has differed demands, we think, a
principal part of our attention. We feel that relent-
merit which we imagine he ought to feel, and which
he would feel, if in his cold and lifelefs body there
remained any conlcioufnefs of what paries upon
earth. His blood, we think, calls aloud for ven-
geance. The very aihes. of the dead feem to be
diflurbed at the thought that his injuries are to pafs
unrevenged. The horrors which are fuppoled to
haunt the bed of the murderer, the ghofls which,
fuperftition imagines, rife from their graves to de-
mand vengeance upon thofe who brought them to
an untimely end, all take their origin from this na-
tural fympathy with the imaginary refentment of
the (lain. And with regard, at lead, to this moft
dreadful of ail crimes, Nature, antecedent to all re-
flections upon the utility of punifhment, has in this
manner {tamped upon the human heart, in the
ftrongeft and moft indelible characters, an imme-
diate and iniVin&ive approbation of the jacted aad
peceflary law of retaliation.
C H A P
io6 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
CHAP. III.
"That where there is no approbation of the conduct of the
perfon who confers the benefit, there is little fympa-
thy with the gratitude of him who receives it : and
that, on the contrary, where there is no difapproba-
tion of the motives of the perfon who does the mif chief
there is no fort of fympathy with the refentment of him
isoho fuffers it.
i
T is to be obferved, however, that, how benefi-
cial foever on the one hand, or how hurtful
foever on the other, the actions or intentions
of the perfon who ads may have been to the per-
fon who is, if I may fay fo,, aded upon, yet if in
the one cafe there appears to have been no propriety
in the motives of the agent, if we cannot enter into
the affedions which influenced his condud, we
have little fympathy with the gratitude of the per-
fon who receives the benefit : or if, in the other
cafe, there appears to have been no impropriety
in the motives of the agent, if, on the contrary,
the affections which influenced his condud are fuch
as we muft- neceflarily enter into, we can have no
fort of fympathy with the refentment of the per-
fon who fuffers. Little gratitude feems due in the
one cafe, and all fort of refentment feems unjuft in
the other. The <*ne adion feems to merit little
reward, the other to defer ve no.punifliment.
I. Firfl,
Sect, i. Of Merit and Demerit. 107
1 . Firft, I fay, that wherever we cannot fympa-
thize with the affections of the agent, wherever there
feems to be no propriety in the motives which influ-
enced his conduct, we are lefs difpofed to enter into
the gratitude of the perfon who received the benefit
of his actions. A very fmall return feems due to
that fooliih and profufe generofity which confers the
greater! benefits from the moft trivial motives, and
gives an eflate to a man merely becaufe his name and
furname happen to be the fame with thofe of the
giver. Such fervices do not feem to demand any
proportionable recompenfe. Our contempt for the
folly of the agent hinders us from thoroughly enter-
ing into the gratitude of the perfon to whom the good
office has been done. His benefactor feems un-
worthy of it. As when we place ourfelves in the
fituation of the perfon obliged, we feel that we could
conceive no great reverence for fuch a benefactor,
we eafily abfolve him from a great deal of that fub-
miflive veneration and efteem which we mould think
due to a more refpectable character; and provided
he always treats his weak friend with kindnefs and
humanity, we are willing to excufe him from many
attentions and regards which we mould demand to a
worthier patron. Thofe Princes, who have heaped,
with the greateft profufion, wealth, power, and
honours, upon their favourites, have feldom excited
that degree of attachment to their perfons which has
often been experienced by thofe who were more fru-
gal of their favours. The well-natured, but injudici-
ous prodigality of James the Firft of Great Britain
feems to have attached no body to his perfon 5 and
that Prince, notwithflanding his focial and harmlefs
difpofition, appears to have lived and died with-
out
io8 0/ Merit and Demerit. Part II.
out a friend. The whole gentry and nobility of
England expofed their lives and fortunes in the
caufe of his more frugal and diftinguifhing fon,
notwithstanding the coldnefs and diftant feverity of
his ordinary deportment.,
2. Secondly, I fay, That wherever the conduct
of the agent appears to have been entirely directed
by motives and affections which we thoroughly
enter into and approve of, we can have no fort of
fympathy with the refentment of the fufferer, how
great foever the mifchief which may have been done
to him. When two people quarrel, if we take
part with, and entirely adopt the relent men t of one
of them, it is impoflible that we fhould enter
into that of the other. Our fympathy with the
perfon whofe motives we go along with, and whom
therefore we look upon as in the right, cannot but
harden us againft all fellow-feeling with the other,
whom we neceiTarily regard as in the wrong.
Whatever this lair, therefore, may have fuffered,
while it is no more than what we ourfelves fhould
have wifhed him to fuffer, while it is no more than
what our own fympathetic indignation would
have prompted us to inflict upon him, it cannot
either difpleafe or provoke us. When an inhuman
murderer is brought to the fcarTold, though we
have fome companion for his mifery, we can have
no fort of fellow-feeling with his refentment, if
he mould be fo abfurd as to exprefs any againft
either his pirofecutor or his judge. The natural
tendency of their juft indignation againft fo vile a
criminal is indeed the moll fatal and ruinous to
him. But it is impoflible that we fhould be dif-
pleafed
Sect, i. 0/ Merit and Demerit. 109
pleafed with the tendency of a fentiment, which,
when we bring the cafe home to ourfeives, we feel
that we cannot avoid adopting.
CHAP. IV.
Recapitulation of the foregoing Chapters.
w
E do not, therefore, thoroughly and heartily
fympathize with the gratitude of one man towards
another, merely becauie this other has been the
caufe of his good fortune, unlefs he has been the
caufe of it from motives which we entirely go along
with. Our heart muft adopt the principles of the
agent, and go along with all the affections which
influenced his conduct, before it can entirely fym-
pathize with, and beat time to, the gratitude of
the perfon who has been benefited by his actions.
If in the conduct of the benefactor there appears
to have been no propriety, how beneficial foever its
effects, it does not feem to demand, or neceflarily
to require, any proportionable recompenfe.
But when to the beneficent tendency of the
action is joined the propriety of the affection from
which it proceeds, when we entirely fympathize
and go along with the motives of the agent, the
love which we conceive for him upon his own
account, enhances and enlivens our fellow-feeling
with
no Of Merit and Demerit. Part IL
with the gratitude of thofe who owe their profperity
to his good conduct. His actions feem then to
demand, and, if I may fay fo, to call aloud for a
proportionable recompenfe. We then entirely en-
ter into that gratitude which prompts to beftow it.
The benefactor feems then to be the proper object
of reward, when we thus entirely fympathize with,
and approve of, that fentiment which prompts to
reward him. When we approve of, and go along
with, the affection from which the action proceeds,
we muft neceffarily approve of the action, and re-
gard the perfon towards whom it is directed as its
proper and fuitable object.
2. In the fame manner, we cannot at all fympa-
thize with the refentment of one man againft ano-
ther, merely becaufe this other has been the caufe
of his misfortune, unlefs he has been the caufe of it
from motives which we cannot enter into. Before
we can adopt the refentment of the fufferer, we
muft difapprove of the motives of the agent, and
feel that our heart renounces all fympathy with the
affections which influenced his conduct. If there
appears to have been no impropriety in thefe, how
fatal foever the tendency of the action which pro-
ceeds from them to thofe againft whom it is di-
rected, it does not feem to deferve any punifh-
ment, or to be the proper object of any refent-
ment.
But when to the hurtfulnefs of the action is join-
ed the impropriety of the affection from whence it
proceeds, when our heart rejects with abhorrence
all fellow-feeling with the motives of the agents
wc
Sedt. i. Of Merit and Demerit; hi
we then heartily and entirely fympathize with the
refentment of the fufferer. Such actions feem then
to defer ve, and, if I may fay fo, to call aloud for,
a proportionable punifhment • and we entirely enter
into, and thereby approve of, that refentment which
prompts to inflict it. The offender neceffarily
feems then to be the proper object of punifhment,
when we thus entirely fympathize with, and thereby
approve of, that fentiment which prompts to punifh.
In this cafe too, when we approve, and go along
with, the affection from which the action proceeds,
we mufl neceffarily approve of the action, and
regard the perfon againfl: whom it is directed, as its
proper and fuitable object.
CHAP.
ii2 Of Me r i t and Dem er i f i Part IL
CHAP. \f.
Tbe analyjis of the fenfe of merit and demerit,
■A
S our fenfe, therefore, of the propriety of
conduct arifes from what I mall call a direct fympa-
thy with the affections and motives of the perfon
who ads, fo our [enk of its merit arifes from what
I (hall call an indirect lympathy with the gratitude
of the perfon who is, if I may fay fo, acted upon.
As we cannot indeed enter thoroughly into the
gratitude of the perfon who receives the benefit,
unlefs we beforehand approve of the motives of the
benefactor, fo, upon this account, the fenfe of merit
feems to be a compounded fentiment, and to be
made up of two diftinct emotions ; a direct fympa-
thy with the fentiments of the agent, and an indi-
rect fympathy with the gratitude of thofe who re-
ceive the benefit of his actions.
We may, upon many different occafions, plainly
diftinguifh thofe two different emotions combining
and uniting together in our fenfe of the good defert
of a particular character or action. When we read in
hiflory concerning actions of proper and beneficent
greatnefs of mind, how eagerly do we enter into
fuch defigns ? How much are we animated by that
high-
Sett. i. O/Merit and Demerit. 113
high-fpirited generofity which directs them ? How-
keen are we for their fuccefs ? How grieved at their
difappointment ? In imagination we become the very
perfon whofe actions are reprefented to us : we tran-
fport ourfelves in fancy to the fcenes of thofe diftant
and forgotten adventures, and imagine ourfelves
acting the part of a Scipio or a Camillus, a Timole-
on or an Ariltides. So far our fentiments are found-
ed upon the direct fympathy with the perfon who
atts. Nor is the indirect fympathy with thofe who
receive the benefit of fuch actions lefs fenfibly felt.
Whenever we place ourfelves in the fituation of thefe
lait, with what warm and affectionate fellow-feeling do
we enter into their gratitude towards thofe who ferved
them fo effentially ? We embrace, as it were, their
benefactor along with them. Our heart readily fym-
pathizeswith the higheft tranfports of their grateful
affection. No honours, no rewards, we think, can
be too great for them to beftow upon him. When
they make this proper return for his fervices, we
heartily applaud and go along with them ; but are-
mocked beyond all meafure, if by their conduct they
appear to have little fenfe of the obligations conferred
upon them. Our whole fenfe, in fhort, of the
merit and good defert of fuch actions, of the proprie-
ty and fitnefs of recompenfing them, and making
the perfon who performed them rejoice in his turn,
arifes from the fympathetic emotions of gratitude
and love, with which, when we bring home to our
own breaft the fituation of thofe principally concern-
ed, we feel ourfelves naturally tranfported towards
the man who could act with fuch pro]£er and noble
beneficence.
I 2. In
ii4 0/ Merit and Demerit. Part II.
2. In the fame manner as our fenfe of the impro-
priety of conduct arifes from a want of fyrnpathy, or
from a direct antipathy to the affections and motives
of the agent, fo our fenfe of its demerit arifes from
what I fhall here too call an indirect fyrnpathy with
the refentment of the fufferer.
As we cannot indeed enter into the refentment of
the fufferer, unlefs our heart beforehand difapproves
the motives of the agent, and renounces all fellow-
feeling with them ; foupon this account the fenfe of
demerit, as well as that of merit, feems to be a com-
pounded fentiment, and to be made up of two dif-
tinct emotions ; a direct antipathy to the fentiments
of the agent, and an indirect fyrnpathy with the re-
fentment of the fufferer.
We may here too, upon many different occafions,
plainly diftinguifh thofe two different emotions com-
bining and uniting together in our fenfe of the ill
defert of a particular character or action. 'When
we read in hiflory concerning the perfidy and cruelty
of a Borgia or a Nero, our heart rifes up againft the
deteftable fentiments which influenced their conduct,
and renounces with horror and abomination all fel-
low-feeling with fuch execrable motives. So far
our fentiments are founded upon the direct antipathy
to the affections of the agent : and the indirect fyrn-
pathy with the refentment of the fufferers is ftill
more fenfibly felt. When we bring home to our-
felves the fituation of the perfons whom thofe
fcourges of mankind infalted, murdered, or betray-
ed, what indignation do we not feel againft fuch in-
folent and inhuman opprelfors of the earth ? Our
fyrnpathy
Seel:, i. Of Merit ^Demerit. 115
fympathy with the unavoidable diilrefs of the innocent
fufferers is not more real nor more lively, than our
fellow-feeling with their juft and natural refentment.
The former fentiment only heightens the latter, and
the idea of their diflrefs ferves only to inflame and
blow up our animofrty againil thofe who occafioned
it. When we think of the anguifh of the fufferers,
we take part with them more earneflly againil their
oppreflbrs ; we enter with more eagernefs into all
their fchemes of vengeance, and feel ourfelves every
moment wreaking, in imagination, upon fuch viola-
tors of the laws of iociety, that puniihment which
Our fympathetic indignation tells us is due to their
crimes. Our fenfe of the horror and dreadful atro-
city of fuch conduct, the delight which we take in
hearing that it was properly punifhed, the indigna-
tion which we feel when it efcapes this due retaliati-
on, our whole fenfe and feeling, in fhort, of its ill
defert, of the propriety and fitnefs of infii&ing evil
upon the perfon who is guilty of it, and of making
him grieve in his turn, arifes from the fympathetic
indignation which naturally boils up in the breaft of
the fpectator, whenever he thoroughly brings home
to himfelf the cafe of the fufferer *.
* To afcribe in this manner our natural fenfe of the ill defert
of human actions to a fympathy with the refentment of the fufter-
er, may feem, to the greater part of people, to be. a degradation
of that fentiment. Refentment is commonly regarded as fo odious
a paffion, that they will be apt to think it impoffible that fo lau-
dable a principle, as the fenfe of the ill defert of vice, fhould in
any refpect be founded upon it. They will be more willing, per-
haps, to admit that our fenfe of the merit of good actions is found-
ed upon a fympathy with the gratitude of the perfons who re-
ceive the benefit of them ; becaufe gratitude, as well as all the
other benevolent paflions, is regarded as an amiable principle,
which can take nothing from the worth of whatever is founded
I 2 ut>qt\
n6 O/Merit and Demerit. Part II.
upon it. Gratitude and refentment, however, are in every refpect,
it is evident, counterparts to one another ; and if our fenfe of
merit arifes from a fympathy with the one, our fenfe of demerit can
fcarce mifs to proceed from a fellow feeling with the other.
Let it be confidered too that refentment, though, in the degrees
in which we too often fee it, the moil: odious, perhaps, of all the
paffions, is not difapproved of when properly humbled and entirely
brought down to the level of the fympathetic indignation of the
fpectator. When we, who are the byftanders, feel that our own
animofity entirely correfponus with that of the fufferer, when the
refentment of this laft does not in any refpect go beyond our own,
when no word, no gefture, efcapes him that denotes an emotion
more violent than what we can keep time to, and when he never
aims at infliding any punilhment beyond what we mould rejoice to
fee. inflicted, or what we ourfelves would upon this account even
defne to be the inftruments of infliding, it is impoflible that we
mould not entirely approve of his fentiments. Our own emotion
in this cafe mud, in our eyes, undoubtedly juftify his. And as
experience teaches us how much the greater part of mankind are
incapable of this moderation, and how great an effort muft be made
in order to bring down the rude and undifciplined impulfe of re-
fentment to this faitable temper, we cannot avoid conceiving a
confiderable degree of efteem and admiration for one who appears
capable of exerting fo much felf command over one of the mod
ungovernable paffions of his nature. When indeed the animofity
of the fufferer exceeds, as it almoft always does, what we can go
along with, as we cannot enter into it, we neceffarily difapprove of
it. We even difapprove of it more than we mould of an equal
exeefs of almoft any other paffion derived from the imagination.
And this too violent refentment, inftead of carrying us along with
it, becomes itfelf the object of our refentment and indignation. We
enter into the oppofite refentment of the perfon who is the object of
this unjuft emotion, and who is in danger of fuffering from it.
P.evenge, therefore, the exeefs of refentment, appears to be the
moll deteftable of all the paflions, and is the object of the horror
and indignation of every body. And as in the way in which this
paflion commonly difcovers itfelf among mankind, it is excelltve a
hundred times for once that it is moderate, we are very apt to con-
fider it as altogether^o-Jious and deteftable, becaufe in its moft or-
dinary appearances it is fo. Nature, however, even in the prefent
depraved ftate of mankind, does not feem to have dealt fo unkindly
with
Sedt. i. Of Merit and Demerit. 117
with us, as to have endowed us with any principle which is
wholly in every refpect evil, or which, in no degree and in no direc-
tion, can be the proper object of praife and approbation. Upon
fome occailons we are fenfible that this pafiion, which is generally
too ftrong, may likewife be too weak. We fometimes complain
that a particular perfon thews too little ipirit, and has too little
fenfe of the injuries that have been done to him; and we are as
ready to defpife him for the defect, as to hate him for the excefs of
this paffion.
The infpired writers would not rarely have talked fo frequently
or fo ftrongiy of the wrath and anger of God, if they had regarded
every degree of thofe paffions as vicious and evil, even in fo weak
and imperfect a creature as man.
Let it be confidered too, that the prefent inquiry is not concern-
ing a matter of right, if 1 may fay fo, but concerning a matter of
fact. We are not at prefent examining upon what principles a per-
fect being would approve of the puniihment of bad actions ; but
upon what principles fo weak and imperfect a creature as man
actually and in fact approves of it. The principles which I have
juft now mentioned, it is evident, have a very great effect upon his
fentiments ; and it feems wifely ordered that it ihould be fo. 1 he
very exigence of fociety requires that unmerited and unprovoked
malice ihould be retrained by proper puniihments j and code-
quently, that to inflict thofe puniihments mould be regarded as a
proper and laudable action. Though man, therefore, be naturally
endowed with a defire of the welfare and prefervation of fociety,
yet the Author of nature has not entrufted it to his reafon to find
out that a certain application of puniihments is the proper means
of attaining this end ; but has endowed him with an immediate
and inftinctive approbation of that very application which is moll
proper to attain it. The ceconomy of nature is in this refpect ex-
actly of a piece with what it is upon many other occafions. ; With
regard to all thofe ends which, upon account of their peculiar im-
portance, may be regarded, if fuch an exprefiion is allowable, as
the favourite ends of nature, fhe has conftantly in this manner not
only endowed mankind with an appetite for the end which fhe pro-
pofes, but likewife with an appetite for the means by which alone
this end can be brought about, for their own fakes, and independent
of their tendency to produce it. Thus felf prefervation, and the
propagation of the fpecies, are the great ends which Nature feems
to have propofed in the formation of all animals. Mankind are
I , eadowed
1 1 8 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
endowed with a defue of thofe ends, and an averfion to the contra-
ry ; with a love of life, and a dread of diiTolution ; with a defire
of the continuance and perpetuity of the fpecies, and with an aver-
fion to the thought's of its intire extinction. But though we are in
this manner endowed with a very ilrong defire of thofe ends, it has
not been intruded to the How and uncertain determinations of our
reafon, to find out the proper means of bringing them about. Na-
ture has directed us to the greater part of thefe by original and
immediate inftincts. Hunger, third, the pafiion which unites
the two fexes, the love of pleafure, and the dread of pain, prompt
us to apply thofe means for their own fakes, and without any con-
fideration of their tendency to thofe beneficent ends which the
great Director of nature intended to produce by them.
Before I conclude this note, I mud take notice of a difference
between the approbation of propriety and that of merit or benefi-
cence. Before we approve of the fentiments of any perfon as pro-
per and fuitable to their objects, we mull not only be affected in the
fame manner as he is, but we mull perceive this harmony and cor-
refpondence of fentiments between him and ourfelves. Thus,
though upon hearing of a misfortune that had befallen my friend,
I mould conceive precifely that degree of concern which he gives
way to j yet till I am informed of the manner in which he behaves,
till I perceive the harmony between his emotions and mine, I cannot
be faid to approve of the fentiments which influence his behaviour.
The approbation of propriety therefore requires, not only that we
fhould intirely fympathize with the peifon who acts, but that we
mould perceive this perfect concord between his fentiments and our
own. On the contrary, when I hear of a benefit that has been be-
llowed upon another peifon, let him who has received it be affected
in what manner he pleafes, if, by bringing his cafe home to myfelf,
I feel gratitude arife in my own bread, 1 necelTarily approve of the
conduct of his benefactor, and regard it as meritorious, and the pro-
per object of reward. Whether the perfon who has received the
benefit conceives gratitude or not, cannot, it is evident, in any degree
alter our fentiments with regard to the merit of him who has bellow
ed it. No actual correfpondence of fentiments, therefore, is here re-
quired. It is fufficient that if he was grateful, they would correi-
pond ; and our fenfe of merit is often founded upon one of thofe
illufive fympathies, by which, when we bring home to ourfelves the
cafe of another, we are often affected in a manner in which the per-
fon principally concerned is incapable of being affected. There is a
fimilar difference between our difapprobation of dement, and that of
impropriety. SEC-
Sect. 2. Of Merit and Demerit. 119
SECTION II.
Of juftice and beneficence,
CHAP. 1
Comparifon of thofe two virtues.
xxCTIONS of a beneficent tendency, which pro-
ceed from proper motives, feem alone to require
reward; becaufe fuch alone are the approved ob-
jects of gratitude, or excite the fympathetic gratis
tude of the fpectator.
Actions of a hurtful tendency, which proceed from
improper motives, feem alone to deferve punifh-
ment ; becaufe fuch alone are the approved objects of
refentment, or excite the fympathetic refentment of
the fpectator.
Beneficence is always free, it cannot be extorted
by force, the mere want of it expofes to no punifh-
ment ; becaufe the mere want of beneficence tends
to do no real pofitive evil. It may difappoint of the
good which might reafonably have been expected,
and upon that account it may juftly excite difiike
and difapprobation ; it cannot, however, provoke
I 4 any
l2o Of Merit and Demerit. Part IL
any refentment which mankind will go along with.
The man who does not recompenfe his benefactor,
when he has it in his power, and when his benefactor
needs his arnftance, is, no doubt, guilty of the black-
eft ingratitude. The heart of every impartial fpec-
tator rejects all fellow-feeling with the felfifhnefs of
his motives, and he is the proper object of the higheft
difapprobation. But flill he does no pofitive hurt
to any body. He only does not do that good which
in propriety he ought to have done. He is the ob-
ject of hatred, a paflion which is naturally excited by
impropriety of fentiment and behaviour ; not of refent-
ment^ paflion which is never properly called forth but
by actions which tend to do real and pofitive hurt
to fome particular perfons. His v/ant of gratitude,
therefore, cannot be punilhed. To oblige him by
force to perform what in gratitude he ought to per-
form, and what every impartial fpectator would ap-
prove of him for performing, would if poflible, be
Itill more improper than his neglecting to perform it.
His benefactor would difhonour himfelf if he attempt-
ed by violence to conftrain him to gratitude, and it
would be impertinent for any third perfon, who was
not the fuperior cf either, to intermeddle. But of all
the duties of beneficence, thofe which gratitude re-
commends to us approach neareit to what is called
a perfect and complete obligation. What friend-
ship, what generofity, what charity, would prompt
us to do with univerfal approbation, is (till more free,
and can ftill lefs be extorted by force than the
duties of gratitude. We talk of the debt of grati-
tude, not of charity, or generofity, nor even of friend -
fliip, when friendfhip is mere efteem, and has not
been enhanced and complicated with gratitude for
good offices.
Refent^-
Sect, a. Of Merit and Demerit. 12,1
Refentment feems to have been given us bv na-
ture for defence, and for defence only. It is the
fafeguard of juftice and the fecurity of innocence.
It prompts us to beat off the mifchief which is at-
tempted to be done to us, and to retaliate that which
is already done ; that the offender may be made to
repent of his injuftice, and that others, through fear
of the like punifhment, may be terrified from being
guilty of the like offence. It muft be refer ved
therefore for thefe purpofes, nor can the fpedator
ever go along with it when it is exerted for any
other. But the mere want of the beneficent virtues,
though it may difappoint us of the good which
might reafonably be expected, neither does, nor at-
tempts to do, any mifchief from which we can have
occafion to defend ourfelves.
There is however another virtue, of which the ob-
fervance is not left to the freedom of our own wills,
which may be extorted by force, and of which the
violation expofes to refentment, and confequently to
punifhment. This virtue is juftice : the violation of
juftice is injury : it does real and pofitive hurt to
fome particular perfons, from motives which are na-
turally difapproved of. It is, therefore, the proper
object of relentment, and of punifhment, which is
the natural confequence of refentment. As man-
kind go along with, and approve of, the violence
employed to avenge the hurt which is done by in-
juftice, fo they much more go along with, and ap-
prove of, that which is employed to prevent and
beat off the injury, and to reftrain the offender
from hurting his neighbours. The perfon himfelf
who meditates an injuftice is fenfible of this, and
feels that force may, with the utmoft propriety, be
made
122 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
made ufe of, both by the perfon whom he is about
to injure, and by others, either to obitruct the ex-
ecution of his crime, or to punifh him when he has
executed it. And upon this is founded that re-
markable dirtindion between juftice and all the
other focial virtues, which has of late been parti-
cularly infilled upon by an author of very great
and original genius, that we feel ourfelves to ba
under a drifter obligation to ad according to juftice,
than agreeably to friendship, charity, or genero-
iity ; that the practice of thefe laft mentioned vir-
tues feems to be left in fome meafure to our own
choice but that, fomehow or other, we feel our-
felves to be in a peculiar manner tied, bound, and
obliged to the obfervation of juftice. We feel,
that is to fay, that force may, with the utmoft pn>
priety and with the approbation of all mankind,
be made ufe of to conftrain us to obferve the rules
of the one, but not to follow the precepts of the
other.
We mull: always, however, carefully diftinguifh
what is only blamable, or the proper object of dif-
approbation, from what force may be employed ei-
ther to punifh or to prevent. That feems blamable
which falls (hort of 'that ordinary degree of proper
beneficence which experience teaches us to expect
of every body •, and on the contrary, that feems
praife-worthy which goes beyond it. The ordinary
degree itfelf, feems neither blamable nor praife-^
worthy. A father, a fon, a brother, who behaves
to the correfpondent relation, neither better nor
worfe than the greater part of men commonly do,
feems properly to deferve neither praife nor blame.
He who furprifes us by extraordinary and unexpect-
ed,
Sedt 2. 0/ Merit W Demerit. 123
ed, though (till proper and fuitable kindnefs, or on
the contrary, by extraordinary and unexpected, as
well as unfuitable unkindnefs, feems praife-worthy in
the one cafe, and blamable in the other.
Even the moil ordinary degree of kindnefs or be-
neticehce, however, cannot, among equals, be ex-
torted by force. Among equals each individual is
naturally, and antecedent to the inftitution of ci-
vil government, regarded as having a right both to
defend himfelf from injuries, and to exact a certain
degree of punilhment for thofe which have been
done to him. Every generous fpectator not only ap-
proves of his conduct when he does this, but enters
fo far into his fentiments as often to be willing: to
afliil him. When one man attacks, or robs, or at-
tempts to murder another, all the neighbours take the
alarm, and think that they do right when they run,
either to revenge the perfon who has been injured, or
to defend him who is in danger of being fo. But when
a father fails in the ordinary degree of parental af-
fection towards a fon ; when a fon feems to want that
filial reverence which might be expected to his father ;
when brothers are without the ufual degree of bro-
therly affection • when a man (huts his breaft againft
xompafiion, and refufes to relieve the mifery of his
fellow-creatures, when he can with the greater!: eafe ;
in all theie cafes, though every body blames the
conduct, nobody imagines that thofe who might
have reafon, perhaps, to expect more kindnefs,
have any right to extort it by force. The fufferer
can only complain, and the fpectator can intermed-
dle no other way than by advice and perfuallon.
Upon all fuch occafions, for equals to ufe force
againft
124 Of Merit and Demerit. Part If.
againft one another, would be thought the higheft
degree of infolence and prefumption.
A fuperior may, indeed, fometimes, with univer-
sal approbation, oblige thofe under his jurifdidtion
to behave, in this refpect, with a certain degree of
propriety to one another. The laws of all civilized
nations oblige parents to maintain their children,
and children to maintain their parents, and impofe
upon men many other duties of beneficence. The.
civil magistrate is entriifted with the power not only
of preferving the public peace by reftraining injuf-
tice, but of promoting the profperity of the com-
monwealth, by eftablifhing good discipline, and by
difcouraging every fort of vice and impropriety ;
he may prefcribe rules, therefore, which not only
prohibit mutual injuries among fellow citizens, but
command mutual good offices to a certain degree.
When the fovereign commands what is merely in-
different, and what, antecedent to his orders, might
have been omitted without any blame, it becomes
not only blamable but punifhabie to difobey him.
When he commands, therefore, what, antecedent
to any fuch order, could not have been omitted with-
out the greateft blame, it furely becomes much more
punifhabie to be wanting in obedience. Of all the
duties of a law-giver, however, this, perhaps, is
that which it requires the greater! delicacy and re-
ferve to execute with propriety and judgment. To
neglect it altogether expofes the common-wealth to
many grofs diforders and mocking enormities, and
to pufh it too far is deitructive of all liberty, fe-
curity, andjuftice.
v Though
Sect. 2. Of Merit ^Demerit. 125
Though the mere want of beneficence feems to
merit no puni foment from equals, the greater ex-
ertions of that virtue appear to deferve the higheft
reward. By being productive of the greatefl good,
they are the natural and approved objects of the
livelier* gratitude. Though the breach of juftice,
on the contrary, expofes to punifhment, the obfer-
var.ce of the rules of that virtue feems fcarce to de-
ferve any reward. There is, no doubt, a propriety
in the practice of juftice, and it merits, upon that
account, all the approbation which is due to pro-
priety. m But as it does no real pofitive good, it is
entitled to very little gratitude. Mere juftice is,
upon moft occafions, but a negative virtue, and
only hinders us from hurting our neighbour. The
man who barely abftains from violating either the
perfon, or the eflate, or the reputation of his neigh-
bours, has furely very little pofitive merit. He
fulfils, however, all the rules of what is peculiarly
called juftice, and does everything which his equals
can with propriety force him to do, or which they
can punifh him for not doing. We may often fulfil
all the rules of juftice by fitting ftill and doing no-
thing.
As every man doth, fo mall it be done to him,
and retaliation feems to be the great law which is
dictated to us by Nature. Beneficence and gene-
rofity we think due to the generous and beneficent.
Thofe whofe hearts never open to the feelings of
humanity, ftiould, we think, be fhut out in the
fame manner, from the affections of all their fellow-
creatures, and be allowed to live in the midft of fo-
ciety,. as in a great defert where there is no-body to
care for them, or to inquire after them. The vio-
lator
126 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II..
latorof the laws of juftice ought to be made to feel
himfelf that evil which he has done to another ; and
fince no regard to the fufFerings of his brethren are
capable of reftraining him, he ought to be over- awed
by the fear of his own. The man who is barely in-6
nocent? who only obferves the law of juftice with
regard to others, and. merely abftains from hurting,
his neighbours, can merit only that his neighbours
in their turn mould refpecl his innocence, and that
the fame laws mould be religioufly obferved with re-
gard to him
CHAP. II.
Of the fenfe of juftice, of remorfe, and of the confci*
oufnefs of merit.
\_ HERE can be no proper motive for hurting
our neighbour, there can be no incitement to do evil
to another, which mankind will go along with, ex-
cept jufl indignation for evil which that other has
done to us. To difturb his happinefs merely be-
caufe it Hands in the way of our own, to take from
him what is of real ufe to him merely becaufe it may
be of equal or more ufe to us, or to indulge, in this
manner, at' the expence of other people, the natural
preference which every man has for his own happi-
nefs above that of other people, is what no impar-
tial fpe&ator can go along with. Every man is, no
doubt, by nature} fir ft and principally recommend-
ed to his own care ; and as he is fitter to take care
of
Sect. 2. Of Merit and Demerit. 127
of himfelf than of any other perfon, it is fit and right
that it fhould be fo. Every man, therefore, is much
more deeply interefted in whatever immediately
concerns himfelf, than in what concerns any other
man: and to hear, perhaps, of the death of another
perfon, with whom we have no particular connexion,
will give us lefs concern, will fpoil our flomach, or
break our reft much lefs than a very infignificant
difafter which has befallen ourfelves. But though
the ruin of our neighbour may affect us much lefs
than a very fmall misfortune of our own, we mult
not ruin him to prevent that fmall misfortune, nor
even to prevent our own ruin. We muft, here, as
in all other cafes, view ourfelves not fo much ac-
cording to that light in which we may naturally ap-
pear to ourfelves, as according to that in which we
naturally appear to others. Though every man
may, according to the proverb, be the whole world
to himfelf, to the reft of mankind he is a moft infig-
nificant part of it. Though his own happinefs may
be of more importance to him than that of all the
world befides, to every other perfon it is of no more
confequence than that of any other man. Though
it may be true, therefore, that every individual, in
his own breaft, naturally prefers himfelf to all man-
kind, yet he dares not look mankind in the face,
and avow that he acts according to this principle.
He feels that in this preference they can never go
along with him, and that how natural foever it may
be to him, it muft always appear exceflive and ex-
travagant to them. When he views himfelf in the
light in which he is confcious that others will view
him, he fees that to them he is but one of the mul-
titude in no refpect better than any other hi it. If
he would ad Co as that the impartial fpectator may
enter
128 Of Merit ^Demerit. Part II,
enter into the principles of his conduct, which is
what of all things he has the greater!: defire to do,
he rrtuft, upon this, as upon all other occafions,
humble the arrogance of his felf-love, and bring it
down to fomething which other men can go along
with. They will indulge it fo far as to allow him
to be more anxious about, and to purfue with more
earneil affiduitv, his own happinefs than that of any
other perfon. Thus far, whenever they place them-
felves in his fituation, they will readily go along with
him. In the race for wealth and honours, and pre-
ferments, he may rim as hard as he can, and {train
every nerve and every mufcle, in order to outftrip
all his competitors. But if he mould juftle, or throw
down any of them, the indulgence of the fpeclators
is entirely at an end. It is a violation of fair play,
which they cannot admit of. This man is to them,
in every refpecl:, as good as he : they do not enter
into that felf-love by which he prefers himfelf fo
much to this other, and cannot go along with the
motive from which he hurt him. They readily,
therefore, fympathize with the natural refentment
of the injured, and the offender becomes the object
of their hatred and indignation. He is fenfiblethat
he becomes fo, and feels that thofe fentiments are
ready to burft out from all fides againfl him.
As the greater and more irreparable the evil that
is done, the refentment of the fufferer runs naturally
the higher^ fo does likewife the fympat'hetic indig-
nation of the fpeclator, as well as the fenfe of guilt
in the agent. Death is the greaterr. evil which one
man can inflict upon another, and excites the high-
eft degree of refentment in thofe who are immedi-
ately connected with the (lain. Murder, therefore,
is
Sect. 2 Of Merit WDemerit. 129
is the moil attrocious of all crimes which affect in-
dividuals only, in the fight both of mankind, and of
the perfon who has committed it. To be deprived
of that which we are poifeffed of, is a greater evil
than to be disappointed of what we have only the
expectation. Breach of property, therefore, theft
and robbery, which take from us what we are pof-
fefled of, are greater crimes than breach of contract
which only difappoints us of what we expected.
The mofl facred laws of juftice, therefore, thofe
whofe violation feems to call the loudefl for ven-
geance and punifhment, are the laws which guard
the life and perfon of our neighbour ; the next are
thofe which guard his property and poffeflions ; and
laft of all come thofe which guard what are called
his perfonal rights, or what is duetto him from the
promifes of others.
The violator of the more facred laws of juftice
can never reflect on the fentiments which mankind
muft entertain with regard to him, without feeling
all the agonies of fhame, and horror, and confter-
nation. When his paflion is gratified, and he be-
gins coolly to reflect upon his conduct, he can enter
into none of the motives which influenced it. They
appear now as deteflable to him as they did always
to other people. By fympathizing with the hatred
and abhorrence which other men muft entertain for
him, he becomes in fome meafure the object of his
own hatred and abhorrence. The fituation of the
perfon, who fuffered by his injuftice, now calls upon
his pity. He is grieved at the thought of it; re-
grets the unhappy effects of his own conduct, and
feels at the fame time that they have rendered him
the proper object of the refentment and indignation
K of
130 Of Merit and Demerit. Part IL
of mankind, and of what is the natural confequence
of refentment, vengeance and punifhment. The
thought of this perpetually haunts him, and fills
him with terror and amazement. He dares no lon-
ger look fociety in the face, but imagines himfelf
as it were rejected, and thrown out from the affec-
tions of all mankind. He cannot hope for the con-
folation of fympathy in this his greateft, and mod
dreadful diftrefs. The remembrance of his crimes
has fhut out all fellow-feelings with him from
the hearts of his fellow-creatures. The fenti-
ments which they entertain with regard to him, are
the very thing which he is moil afraid of. Every
thing feems hoflile, and lie would be glad to fly to
fome inhofpitable defert, where he might never more
behold the face of a human creature, nor read in
the countenance of mankind the condemnation of
his crimes. But folitude is flill more dreadful than
fociety. His own thoughts can prefent him with
nothing but what is black, unfortunate, and difafl-
rous, the melancholy forebodings of incomprehen-
fible mifery and ruin. The horror of folitude drives
him back into fociety, and he comes again into the
prefence of mankind, aftonifhed to appear before
them, loaded with fhame and dift.rac~t.ed with fear,
in order to fupplicate fome little protection from the
countenance of thofe very judges, who he knows
have already all unanimoufly condemned him. Such
is the nature of that fentiment, which is properly
called remorfe ; of all the fentiments which can en-
ter the human breaft the moil: dreadful. It is made
up of fhame from the fenfe of the impropriety of
paft conduct ; of grief for the effe&s.of it ; of pity
for thofe who fuj~fer by it ; and of the dread and ter-
ror of punifhment from the confcioufnefs of the juft-
ly provoked refentment of all rational creatures.
The
Sett. 2. O/Merit WDemerit. 131
The oppofite behaviour naturally infpires the op-
pofite fentiment. The man who, not from frivo-
lous fancy, but from proper motives, has perform-
ed a generous action, when he looks forward to
thofe whom he has ferved, feels himfelf to be the
natural- object of their love and gratitude, and, by
fympathy with them, of the efteem and approba-
tion of all mankind. And when he looks back-
ward to the motive from which he acted, and fur-
veys it in the light in which the indifferent fpectator
will furvey it, he dill continues to enter into it, and
applauds himfelf by fympathy with the approbation
of this fuppofed impartial judge. In both thefe
points of view his' own conduct appears to him
every way agreeable. His mind, at the thought of
it, is filled with cheerfulnefs, ferenity, and compo-
fure. He is in friendfhip and harmony with all
mankind, and looks upon his fellow-creatures with
confidence and benevolent fatisfaction, fecure that
he has rendered himfelf worthy of their molt favour-
able regards. In the combination of all thefe fenti-
ments confifls the confcioufnefs of merit, or of de-
fer ved reward.
K 2 CHAP,
132 0/ Merit ^ Demerit. Part II.
CHAP. III.
Of the utility of this conftitution of nature.
i
T is thus that man, who cain fubfift only in fo-
ciety, was fitted by nature to that fituationfor which
he was made. AH the members of human fociety
ftand in need of each others afliftance, and are like-
wife expofed to mutual injuries. Where thenecef-
fary afliftance is reciprocally afforded from love,
from gratitude, from friendship and efteem, the
fociety flourishes and is happy. All the different
members of it are bound together by the agreeable
bands of love and affection, and are, as it were,
drawn to one common centre of mutual good of-
fices.
But though the neceflary afliftance fhould not be
afforded from fuch generous and difmterefted mo-
tives, though among the different members of the
fociety there fhould be no mutual love and affection,
the fociety, though lefs happy and agreeable, will
not neceffarily be diflblved. Society may fubfift
among different men, as among different merchants,
from a fenfe of its utility, without any mutual love
or affection ; and though no man in it fhould owe
any obligation, or be bound in gratitude to any
other, it mayxltill be upheld by a mercenary ex-
change of good offices according to an agreed va~
luation.
Society,
Sedt. 2. Of Merit W Demerit, 133
Society, however, cannot fubfift among thofe
who are at all times ready to hurt and injure one
another. The moment that injury begins, the mo-
ment that mutual fefentment and ahimofity take
place, all the bands of it are broke afunder, and the
different members of which it condiled are, as it
were, diflipated and fcattered abroad by the violence
and oppofition of their difcordant affections. If
there is any fociety among robbers and murderers,
they muft at leaft, according to the trite cbfervation,
abflain from robbing and murdering one another.
Beneficence, therefore, is lefs eilential to the exig-
ence of fociety than juilice. Society may fubfift,
though not in the moft' comfortable ftate, without
beneficence ; but the prevalence of injuftice muft
utterly deflroy it.
Though Nature, therefore, exhorts mankind to
ads of beneficence, by the pleafing confcioufnefs of
deferved reward, flue has not thought it neceiTary to
guard and enforce the practice of it by the terrors
of merited punifhment in cafe it mould be neglect-
ed. It is the ornament which embellifhes, not the
foundation which fupports the building, and which
it was, therefore, fufhcient to recommend, but by
no means neceiTary to impofe. Juftice, on the con-
trary, is the main pillar that upholds the whole edi-
fice. If it is removed, the great, thejmmenfe fa-
bric of human fociety, that fabric which to raife and
fupport feems in this world, if I may fay fo, to have
been the peculiar and darling care of Nature^ muft
in a moment crumble into atoms. In order to en-
force the obfervation of juftice, therefore, Nature
has implanted in the human breaft that confciouf-
nefs of ill-defert, thofe terrors of merited punifh-
K 3 ment
134 Of "Merit and DemeriT} Part II.
merit which attend upon its violation, as the great
fafe-guards of the affociation of mankind, to pro-
ted the weak, to curb the violent, and to chaftife
the guilty. Men, though naturally fympathetic, feel
fo little for another, with whom they have no par-
ticular connexion, in companion for what they feel
for themfelves ; the mifery of one, who is merely
their fellow-creature, is of fo little importance .to
them in comparifon even of a fmall conveniency of
their own -, they have it fo much in their power to
hurt him, and may have fo many temptations to
do fo, that if this principle did not {land up within
them in his defence, and overawe them into a re-
fpect for his innocence, they would, like wild
beafts, be at all times ready to fly upon him ; and
a man would enter an aiTembly of men as he enters
a den of lions.
In every part of the univerfe we obferve means
adjufted with the nicefl artifice to the ends which
they are intended to produce; and in the mecha-
nifm of a plant, or animal body, admire how every
thing is contrived for advancing the two great pur-
pofes of nature, the fupport of the individual, and
the propagation of the fpecies. But in thefe, and
in all fuch objects, we (till diftinguifh the efficient
from the final caufe of their feveral motions and or-
ganizations. The digeflion of the food, the circu-
lation of the blood, and the , fecretion of the feve-
ral juices which are drawn from it, are operations all
of them rieceuary for the great purpofes of animal
life. Yet we never endeavour to. account for them
from thofe purpofes as from their efficient caufes,
nor imagine that the blood circulates, or that the
food digeits oPks own accord, and with a view or
intention
Sect. %. Of Merit and Demerit. 135
intention to the purpofes of circulation or digeftion.
The wheels of the watch are all admirably adjufted
to the end for which it was made, the pointing of
the hour. All their various motions confpire in the
niceft manner to produce this effect. If they were
endowed with a defire and intention to produce it,
they could not do it better. Yet we never afcribe
any fuch defire or intention to them, but to the
watch-maker, and we know that they are put in mo-
tion bv a fpring, which intends the effect it pro-
duces as little as they do. But though, in account-
ing for the operations of bodies, we never fail to
diftinguifh in this manner the efficient from the final
caufe, in accounting for thofe of the mind^ we are
very apt to confound thofe two different things with
one another. When by natural principles we are
led to advance thofe ends, which a refined and en-
lightened reafon mould recommend to us, we are
very apt to impute to that reafon, as to their efficient
caufe, the fentiments and actions by which we ad-
vance thofe ends, and to imagine that to-be the wif-
dom of man, which in reality is the wifdom of God.
Upon a fuperficial view this caufe feems fufficient to
produce the effects which are afcribed to it ; and the
fyftem of human nature feems to be more fimple
and agreeable when all its different operations are in
this manner deduced from a fmgle principle.
As fociety cannot fubfift unlefs the laws of juftice
are totally obferved, as no focial intercourfe can take
place among men who do not generally abftain
from injuring one another ; the confideration of this
neceflity, it has been thought, was the ground upon
which we approved of the enforcement of the laws
of jultice by the punifhment of thofe who violated
K 4 them.
136 Of Merit W Demerit. Part II.
them. Man, it has been faid, has a natural love
for fociety, and defires that the union of mankind
fhould be preferved for its own fake, and though he
himfelf was to derive no benefit from it. The or-
derly and flourifhing (late of fociety is agreeable to
him, and he takes delight in contemplating it. Its
diforder and confufion, on the contrary, is the ob-
ject of his averfion, and he is chagrined at whatever
tends to produce it. He is fenfibie too that his own
interefl is connected with the profperity of fociety,
and that the happinefs, perhaps the prefervation of
his exiitence, depends upon its prefervation. Upon
every account, therefore, he has an abhorrence at
whatever can tend to deftroy fociety, and is willing
to make ufe of every means, which can hinder fo
hated and fo dreadful an event. Injuftice neceffa-
rily tends to deftroy it. Every appearance of in-
juftice, therefore, alarms him, and he runs, if I may
fay fo, to ftop the progrefs of what, if allowed to go
on, would quickly put an end to every thing that is
dear to hirrr. If he cannot reftrain it by gentle and
fair means, he muft bear it down by force and vio-
lence, and at any rate muft put a ftop to its fur-
ther progrefs. Hence it is, they fay, that he often
approves of the enforcement of the law of juftice
even by the capital puniftiment of thofe who vio-
late them. The difturber of the public peace is
hereby removed out of the world, and others are
terrified by his fate from imitating his example.
Such is the account commonly given of our ap-
probation of the punifhment of' injuftice. And fo
far this account is undoubtedly true, that we fre-
quently have occaiion to confirm our natural fenfe
of the propriety and fitnefs of pimifhment, by reflec-
ting
Sect. 2. Of Merit ^Demerit, 137
ting how neceflary it is for preferring the order of
ibciety. When the guilty is about to fuffer that
juft retaliation, which the natural indignation of
mankind tells them is due to his crimes ; when the
infolence of his injuftice is broken and humbled by
the terror of his approaching punifhment ; when he
ceafes to be an object of fear, with the generous and
humane he begins to be an object of pity. The
thought of what he is about to fuffer extinguishes
their refentment for the fufferings of others to which
he has given occafion. They are difpofed to par-
don and forgive him, and to fave him from that pu-
nifhment, which in all their cool hours they had con-
fidered as the retribution due to fuch crimes. Here,
therefore, they have occafion to call to their aflift-
ance the consideration of the general intereft of fo-
ciety. They counterbalance the impalfe of this
weak and partial humanity by the dictates of a hu-
manity that is more generous and comprehenfive.
They reflect that mercy to the guilty is cruelty to
the innocent, and oppofe to the emotions of com-
panion which they feel for a particular perfon, a
more enlarged companion which they feel for man-
kind.
Sometimes too we have occafion to defend the
propriety of obferving the general rules of juflice by
the confideration of their necelTity to the fupport of
fociety. We frequently hear the young and the li-
centious ridiculing the mofl facred rules of morality,
and profefling, fometimes from the corruption, but
more frequently from the vanity of their hearts, the
mofl abominable maxims of conduct. Our indig-
nation roufes, and we are eager to refute and ex-
pofe fuch deteftable principles. But though it is
their
138 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
their intrinfic hatefulnefs and deteftablenefs, which
originally inflames us againfl them, we are unwil-
ling to aflign this as the fole reaion why we con-
demn them, or to pretend that it is merely becaufe
we ourfelves hate and detefl them. The reaion, we
think, would not appear to be conclufive. Yet
why fhould it not > if we hate and deteft them be-
caufe they are the natural and proper objects of ha-
tred and deteftation ? But when we are afeed why
we mould not act in fuch or fuch a manner, the
very quefhion feems to fuppofe that, to thofe who
afk it, this manner of acting does not appear to be
for its own fake the natural and proper object of
thofe fentiments. We mult (how them, therefore,
that it ought to be fo for the fake of fomething elfe.
Upon this account we generally cafl about for other
arguments, and the confideration which full occurs
to us is the diforder and confufion of fociety which
would refult from the univerfal prevalence of fuch
practices. We feldom fail, therefore, to infill upon
this topic.
But though it commonly requires no great dif-
cernment to fee the deftructive tendency of all li-
centious practices to the welfare of fociety, it is fel-
dom this confideration which firfl animates us a-
gainit them. All men, even the mod ftupid and
unthinking, abhor fraud, perfidy, and injuftice, and
delight to fee them punifhed. But few men have re-
flected upon the neceflity of juftice to the exiftence of
fociety, how obvious foever that neceflity may ap-
pear to be.
That it is not a regard to the prefervation of fo-
ciety, which originally interefts us in the punifhment
of
Sett. 2. Of Merit and Demerit. 1-9
of crimes committed againfl individuals, may be de-
monilrated by many obvious confiderations. The
concern which we take in fhe fortune and happlnefs
of individuals does not, in common cafes, arife from
that which we take in the fortune and happinefs of
fociety. We are no more concerned for the de-
ftrudtidn or lofs of a fingle man, becaufe this man is
a member or part of fociety, and becaufe we mould
be concerned for the definition of fociety, than we
are concerned for the lofs of a fingle guinea, becaufe
this guinea is a part of a thoufand guineas, and be-
caufe we mould be concerned for the lofs of the
whole fum. In neither cafe does our regard for the
individuals arife from our regard for the multitude :
but in both cafes our regard for the multitude is
compounded and made up of the particular regards
which we feel for the different individuals of which
it is compofed. As when a fmall fum is nnjuftly
taken from us we do not fo much profecute the in-
jury from a regard to the prefer vation of our whole
fortune, as from a regard to that particular fum
which we have loft ; fo when a fingle man is injured
or deftroyed, we demand the punifhment of the
wrong that has been done to him, not fo much from
a concern for the general intereft of fociety, as from
a concern for that very individual who has been in-
jured. It is to be obferved, however, that this
concern does not necelfarily include in it any degree
of thofe exquifite fentiments which are commonly
called love, efreem, and affection, and by which we
diftinguifh our particular friends and acquaintance.
The concern which is requifite for this is no more
than the general fellow-feeling which we have with
every man merely becaufe he is our fellow-creature.
We enter into the refentment even of an odious per-
fon,
140 Of Merit and Demerit. PartIL
ion, when he is injured by thofe to whom he has
given no provocation. Our difapprobation of his
ordinary character and conduct, does not in this
cafe altogether prevent our fellow-feeling with his
natural indignation ; though with thofe who are not
either extremely candid, or who have not been ac-
cuflomed to correct and regulate their natural fenti-
ments by general rules, it is very apt to damp it.
Upon fome occafions, indeed, we both punifh
and approve of punifhment, merely from a view to
the general intereil of fociety, vvhich, we imagine,
cannot otherwife be fecured. Of this kind are all
the punifhments inflicted for breaches of what is
called either civil police, or military difcipline. Such
crimes do not immediately or directly hurt any | par-
ticular perfon ; but their remote confequences, it is
fuppofed, do produce, or might produce, either a
confiderable inconveniency, or a great diforder in
the fociety. A centinel, for example, who falls afleep
upon his watch, furTers death by the law of war, be-
caufe fuch carelefTnefs might endanger the whole ar-
my. This feverity may, upon many occafions, ap-
pear neceifary, and, for that reafon, juft and proper.
When the prefervation of an individual is incon-
fiflent with the fafety of a multitude, nothing can be
more juft than that the many mould be preferred to
the one. Yet this punifhment, how neceflary fo-
ever, always appears to be excefllvely fevere. The
natural atrocity of the crime feems to be fo little,
?nd the punifhment fo great, that it is with great
difficulty that our hearts can reconcile itfelf to it.
Though fuch carelefTnefs appears very blamable,
yet the thought of this crime does not naturally ex-
cite any fuch re"fentment, as would prompt us to
take
Sect. 2. Of Merit and Demerit. 141
take fuch dreadful revenge. A man of humanity
mull recollect, himfelf, mufc make an effort, and ex-
ert his whole ftrmnefs and refolution, before he can
bring himfelf either to inflict it, or to go along with
it when it is inflicted by others. It is not, however,
in this manner, that he looks upon the juft pimifh-
ment of an ungrateful murderer or parricide. His
heart, in this cafe, applauds with ardour, and even
with tranfport, the juft retaliation which feems due
to fuch deteftable crimes, and which, if, by any ac-
cident, they mould happen to efcape, he would be
highly enraged and difappointed. The very differ-
ents fentiment with which the fpectator views thofe
different punifhments, is a proof that his approba-
tion of the one is far from being founded upon
the fame principles with that of the other. He looks
upon the centinel as an unfortunate victim, who, in-
deed, mult., and ought to be, devoted to the fafety
of numbers, but whom Hill, in his heart, he would
be glad to fave • and he is only forry, that the inter-
eft of the many mould oppofe it. Buf if the mur-
derer mould efcape from puniifiment, it would ex-
cite his higheft indignation, and he would call upon
God to avenge, in another world, that crime which
the injuftice of mankind had negle&ed to chaftife
upon earth.
For it well deferves to be taken notice of, that we
are fo far from imagining that injuftice ought to be
punifhed in this life, merely on account of the or-
der of fociety, which cannot otherwife be maintain-
ed,, that Nature teaches us to hope, and religion, we
fuppofe, authorizes us to expedt, that it will be pu-
nifhed, even in a life to come. Our fenfe of its ill
defert purfues it, if I may fay fo, even beyond the
grave,
142 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
grave, though the example of its pimimment there
cannot ferve to deter the reft of mankind, who fee
it not, who know it not, from being guilty of the
like practices here. The juftice of God, however,
we think, itill requires, that he mould hereafter
avenge the injuries of the widow and the fatherlefs,
who are here lb often infulted with impunity.
That the Deity loves' virtue and hates vice, as a
voluptuous man loves riches and hates poverty, not
for their own fakes, but for the effects which they
tend to produce ; that he loves the one, only becaufe
it promotes the happinefs of fociety, which his be-
nevolence prompts him to defire •, and that he hates
the other, only becaufe it occafionsthe miferyof man-
kind, which the fame divine quality renders the ob-
ject of his averfion ; is not the doctrine of untaught
nature, but of an artificial refinement of reafon and
philofophy. Our untaught, natural fentiments, all
prompt us to believe, that as perfect virtue is fup-
pofed neceilarily to appear to the Deity, as it does
to us, for its own fake, and without any further
view, the natural and proper object of love and re-
ward, fo mult vice, of hatred and punifhment.
That the gods neither refent nor hurt, was the ge-
neral maxim of all the different fects of the ancient
philofophy : and if, by refenting, be underitood,
that violent and diforderly perturbation, which often
diftracts and confounds the human breait ; or if, by
hurting, be underitood, the doing mifchief wanton-
ly, and without regard to propriety or juftice, fuch
weaknefs is undoubtedly unworthy of the divine
perfection. But if it be meant, that vice does not
appear to the Deity to be, for its own fake, the ob-
ject of abhorrence and averfion, and what, for its
own
Sect. 2. Of Merit WDemerit. 143
own fake, it is fit and right fhould be punifhed, the
truth of this maxim feems repugnant to fome very-
natural feelings. If we confult our natural fenti-
ments, we are even apt to fear, left, before the ho-
linefs of God, vice fhould appear to be more worthy
of punjfhment than the weaknefs and imperfection
of human virtue can ever feem to be of reward.
Man, when about to appear before a Being of infi-
nite perfection, can feel but little confidence in his
own merit, or in the imperfect propriety of his own
conduct. In the prefence of his fellow-creatures, he
may even juftly elevate himfelf, and may often have
reafon to think highly of his own character and con-
duct, compared to the ftill greater imperfection of
theirs. But the cafe is quite different when about to
appear before his infinite Creator. To fuch a Be-
ing, he fears, that his littlenefs and weaknefs can
fcarce ever appear the proper object, either of ef-
teem or of reward. But he can eafily conceive,
how the numberlefs violations of duty, of which he
has been guilty, fhould render him the proper object
of averfton and punifhment ; and he thinks he can
fee no reafon why the divine indignation fhould not
be let loofe without any restraint, upon fo vile an in-
fect, as he imagines that he himfelf mull: appear to
be. If he would ftill hope for happinefs, he fufpecls
that he cannot demand it from the juftice, but that
he muft entreat it from the mercy of God. Repent-
ance, forrow, humility, contrition at the thought of
his palt conduct, feem, upon this account, the fen-
timents which become him, and to be the only
means which he has left for appeafmg that wrath
which, he knows, he has juftly provoked. He
even diftrufts the efficacy of all thefe, and naturally
fears, left the wifdom of God fhould not, like the
weaknefs
144 0/ Merit and Demerit. Part II.
weaknefs of man, be prevailed upon to fpare the
crime by the moft importunate lamentations of the
criminal. Some other interceflion, fome other fa-
crifice, fome other atonement, he imagines muft be
made for him, beyond what he himfelf is capable of
making, before the purity of the divinejuflice can be
reconciled to his manifold offences. The doctrines
of revelation coincide, in every refpeft, with thofe
original anticipations of nature -, and as they teach us
how little we can depend upon the imperfection of
our own virtue, fo they fhow us, at the fame time,
that the moft powerful interceflion has been made,
and that the moft dreadful atonement has been paid
for our manifold tranfgreflions and iniquities.
SEC-
Sect. 3. Of Merit and Demerit* 145
SECTION III.
Of the influence of fortune upon the fentiments of
mankind, with regard to the merit or demerit of
actions.
INTRODUCTION.
Wi
HATEVER praife or blarrie can be due to
any action, mufl belong either, full, to the intention
or affection of the heart, from which it proceeds;
or, fecondly, to the external action or movement of
the body, which this affection gives occafionto; or,
laft, to all the good or bad confequences, which ac-
tually, and in fact, proceed from it. Thefe three
different things conilitute the whole nature and cir^
cumflances of the action, and mufl be the foundation
of 'whatever quality can belong to it.
That the two lalt of thefe three circumflances can-
not be the foundation of any praife or blame, is abun-
dantly evident ; nor has the contrary ever been af-
ferted by any body. The external action or move-
ment of the body is often the fame in the^mofl in-
nocent and in the molt blamable actions. 'He who
moots a bird, and he who moots a man, both of them
L- perform
146 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
perform the fame external movement : each of them
draws the tricker of a gun. The confequences
which actually, and in fact, happen to proceed from
any action, are, if pofiible, Hi 11 more indifferent
either to praife or blame, than even the external
movement of the body. As they depend, not up-
on the agent, but upon fortune, they cannot be the
proper foundation for any fentirrient, of which his
character and conduct are the objects.
The only confequences for which he can be ari-
fwerable, or by which he can deferve either approba-
tion or difapprobation of any kind, are thofe which
were fome way or other intended, or thofe which,
at leaft, fhow fome agreeable or difagreeable quality
in the intention of the heart, from which he acted.
To the intention or affection of the heart, therefore,
to the propriety or impropriety, to the beneficence
or hurtfulnefs of the defign, all praife or blame, all
approbation or difapprobation, of any kind, which
can juflly be beflowed upon any action, mufl ulti-
mately belong.
When this maxim is thus propofed in abflract and
general terms, there is no body who does not agree
to it. Its felf-evident jultice is acknowledged by
all the v/orld, and there is not a diffenting voice
among all mankind. Ever)- 'body allows, that how
different foever the accidental, the unintended and
unforefeen confequences of different actions, yet, if
the intentions or affections from which they arofe
were, on the one hand, equally proper and equally
beneficent, or, on the other, equally improper and
equally malevolent, the merit or demerit of the ac-
tions is itill the fame, and the agent is equally the
fuitable object either of gratitude or of refentment.
But
Sect. 3. Of Merit and Demerit. 147
But how well foever we may feem to be perfuad-
ed of the truth of this equitable maxim, when we
confider it after this manner, in abftract, yet when
we come to particular cafes, the actual confequences
which happen to proceed from any action, have a
very great effect upon our fentiments concerning its
merit or demerit, and almofl always either enhance
or diminifh our fenfe of both. Scarce, in any one
inilance, perhaps, will our fentiments be found, af-
ter examination, to be entirely regulated by this
rule, which we • all acknowledge ought entirely to
regulate them.
This irregularity of fentiment, which every body-
feels, which fcarce any body is fufficiently aware of,
and which no body is willing to acknowledge, I pro-
ceed now to explain ; and I fhall confider, firft, the
caufe which gives occafion to it, or the mechanifnV
by which nature produces it ; fecondly, the extent
of its influence; and, laft of all, the end which it
anfwers, or the purpofe which the Author of nature
feems to have intended by it.
Lz chap:
143 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II
CHAP. I.
Of the caufes of this influence of fortune.
T,
HE caufes of pain and pleafure, whatever they
are, or however they operate, feem to be the objects,
which, in all animals, immediately excite thofe two
paffions of gratitude and refentment. They are ex-
cited by inanimated, as well as by animated objects.
We are angry, for a moment, even at the ftone that
hurts us. A child beats it, a dog barks at it, a cho-
leric man is apt to curfe it. The leaf! reflection, in-
deed, corrects this fentiment, and we foon become
fenfible, that what has no feeling is a very improper
object of revenge. When the mifchief, however,
is very great, the object which caufed it becomes
difagreeable to us ever after, and we take pleafure
to burn or deftroy it. We mould treat, in this man-
ner, the inftrument which had accidentally been the
caufe of the death of a friend, and we mould often
think ourfelves guilty of a fort of inhumanity, if
we neglected to vent this abfurd fort of vengeance
upon it.
We conceive, in the fame manner, a fort of gra-
titude for thofe inanimated objects, which have been
the caufes of great, or frequent pleafure to us. The
failor, who, asxfoon as he got afhore, mould mend
his fire with the plank upon which he had juft ef-
caped
Sect. 3". Of Merit and Demerit. 149
caped from a fhipwreck, would feem to be guilty
of an unnatural a&ion. We mould expect that he
would rather preferve it with care and affection, as
a monument that was, in ibme meafure, dear to
him. A man grows fond of a fnufF-box, of a pen-
knife, of a ftaff which he has long made ufe of, and
conceives fomething like a real love and affection
for them. If he breaks or loies them, he is vexed
out of all proportion to the value of the damage.
The houfe which we have long lived in, the tree,
whofe verdure and (hade we ha\*e long enjoyed,
are both looked upon with a fort of refpect that
feems due to fuch benefactors. The decay of the
one, or the ruin of the other, affects us with a kind
of melancholy, though we mould fuflain no lofs by
it. The Dryads and the Lares of the ancients, a
fort of genii of trees and houfes, were probably rirft
fuggefted by this fort of affection, which the authors
of thofe fuperflitions felt for fuch objects, and which
feemed unreafonable, if there was nothing animated
about them.
But, before any thing can be the proper object of
gratitude or refentment, it mull not only be the
caufe of pleafure or pain, it mult likewife be capa-
ble of feeling them. Without this other quality,
thofe pailions cannot vent themfelves with any fort
of fatisfaction upon it. As they are excited by the
caufes of pleafure and pain, fo their gratification
confifts in retaliating thofe fenfations upon what
gave oceafion to them 5 which it is to no purpofe to
attempt upon what has no fenfibility. Animals,
therefore, are lefs improper objects of gratitude and
refentment than inanimated objects. The dog that
bites, the ox that gores, are both of them puniflied.
L3 If
150 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II,
If they have, been the caufes of the death of any per-
son, neither the public, nor the relations of the (lain,
can be fatisfied, unlefs they are put to death in their
J:urn \ nor is this merely for the fecurity of the liv-
ing, but in fome meafure, to revenge the injury of
.the dead. Thofe animals, on the contrary, that
have been remarkably ferviceable to their mailers,
Jbecome the objects of a very lively gratitude. We
are (hocked at the brutality of that officer, mention-
ed in the Turkifh Spy, who ftabbed the horfe that
had carried him a-crofs an arm of the fea, left that
animal mould afterwards diftinguifh fome ether per-
fon by a fimilar adventure.
But, though animals are not only the caufes of
pleafure and pain, but are alfo capable of feeling
thofe fenfations, they are ftill far from being com-
plete and perfect objects, either of gratitude or re-
fentment ; and thofe paflions flill feel, that there is
fomething wanting to their entire gratification. What
gratitude chiefly defires, is not only to make the
benefactor feel pleafure in his turn, but to make him
confeious that he meets with this reward on account
of his pa(l conduct, to make him pleafed with that
conduct, and to fatisfy him that the perfen upon
whom he beftowed his good offices was not unwor-.
thy of them. What molt of all charms us in our
benefactor, is the concord between his fentiments
.arid our own, with regard to what intereits us fo near-
ly as the worth of our own character, and the efteem
that is due .to us. We are delighted to find a per-
fon who values us as well as we value ourfelves, and
diftinguilhes us from the reft of mankind, with an
attention not unlike that with which we diftinguifh
ourfelves. To maintain in him thefe agreeable and flat-
tering
Sect. 3. . Of Merit and Demerit. 151
tering fentiments, is one of the chief ends propofed
by the returns we are difpofed to make to him. A
.generous mind often difdains the interefted thought
of extorting new favours from its benefactor, by
what may be called the importunities of its grati-
tude. But to preferve and to increafe his efteem,
is an interefl which the greateft mind does not think
unworthy of its attention. And this is the founda-
tion of what I formerly obferved, that when we
cannot enter into the motives of our benefactor,
when his conduct and character appear unworthy of
our approbation, let his fervices have been ever fo
great, our gratitude is always fenfibly diminifhed.
We are lefs flattered by the diftinction ; and to pre-
ferve the efteem of fo weak, or fo worthlefs a pa-
tron, feems to be an object which does not deferve
to be purfued for its own fake.
The object, on the contrary, which refentment
is chiefly intent upon, is not fo much to make our
enemy feel pain in his turn, as to make him con-
fcious that he feels it upon account of his paft con-
duct, to make him repent of that conduct, and to
make him fenfible, that the perfon whom he injur-
ed did not deferve to be treated in that manner.
What chiefly enrages us againfl the man who in-
jures or infults us, is the little account which he
feems to make of us, the unreafonable preference
which he gives to himfelf above us, and that abfurd
felf-love, by which he feems to imagine, that other
people may be facrificed at any time, to his conve-
niency or his humour. The glaring impropriety of
this conduct, the grofs infolence and injuftice which
it feems to involve in it, often (hock and exafperate
us more than all the mifchief which we have fuffered.
L 4 To
152 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II. r
To bring him back to a more juft fenfe of what is
due to other people, to make him fenfible of what
he owes us, and of the wrong that he has done to
us, is frequently the principal end propofed in our
revenge, which is always imperfect when it cannot
accomplim this. When our enemy appears to have
done us no injury, when we are fenfible that he acl-
ed quite properly, that, in his fituation, we mould
have done the fame thing, and that we deferved
from him all the mifchief we met with; in that cafe,
if we have the leaft fpark either of candour or juftice,
we can entertain no fort of refentment.
Before any thing, therefore, can be the complete
and proper object, either of gratitude or refent-
ment, it muft poffefs three different qualifications.
Firfi:, it muft be the caufe of pleafure in the one cafe,
and of pain in the other. Secondly, it muft be ca-
pable of feeling thofe fenfations. And, thirdly, it
mull not only have produced thofe fenfations, but
it muft have produced them from defign, and from
a defign that is approved of in the one cafe, and
difapproved of in the other. It is by the firft quali-
fication, that any object is capable of exciting thofe
pailions : it is by the fecond, that it is in any refpect
capable of gratifying them : the third qualification is
both neceffary for their complete fatisfaction, and as
it gives a pleafure or pain that is both exquifite and
peculiar, it is likewife an additional exciting caufe of
thofe paflionsf
As what .gives pleafure or pain, therefore, either
in one way or another, is the fole exciting caufe of
gratitude and refentment ; though the intentions of
any perfon fhould be ever fo proper and benefi-
cent.
Sect. 3. Of Merit and Demerit. 153
cent, on the one hand, or ever fo improper and ma-
levolent on the other -, yet, if he has failed in pro-
ducing either the good or evil which he intended, as
one of the exciting caufes is wanting in both cafes,
lefs gratitude feems due to him in the one, and lefs
refentment in the other. And, on the contrary,
though in the intentions of any perfon, there was
either no laudable degree of benevolence on the one
.hand, or no blamable degree of malice on the other j
yet, if his actions mould produce either great good
or great evil, as one of the exciting caufes takes
place upon both thefe occafions, fome gratitude is
apt to arife towards him in the one, and fome re-
fentment in the other. A fhadow of merit feems to
fall upon him in the firft, a fhadow of demerit in the
fecond. And, as the confequences of a&ions are al-
together under the empire of Fortune, hence arifes
her influence upon the fentiments of mankind, with
regard to merit and demerit.
CHAP.
i54 0/ Merit ^Demerit. Part II.
CHAP. II.
Of the extent of this influence of fortune.
IHE effect of this influence of fortune is, firfl,
to diminifh our fenfe of the merit or dement of thofe
actions which aroie from the mofl laudable or blam-
able intentions, when they fail of producing their
propofed effects : and, fecondly, to encreafe our
fenfe of the merit or demerit of actions, beyond
what is due to the motives or affections from
which they proceed, when they accidentally give
occafion either to extraordinary pleafure or pain.
p
I. Firfl, I fay, though the intentions of any perfon
mould be ever fo proper and beneficent, on the
one hand, or ever fo improper and malevolent, on
the other, yet, if they fail in producing their effects,
his merit feems imperfect in the one cafe, and his
demerit incomplete in the other. Nor is this irregu-
larity of fentiment felt only by thofe who are imme^
diately affected by the confequences of any action.
It is felt, in fome meafure, even by the impartial
fpectator. The man who folicits an office for ano-
ther, without obtaining it, is regarded as his friend,
and feems to defer ve his love and affection. But the
man who not "only folicits, but procures it, is more
peculiarly confidered as his patron and- benefactor,
and is entitled to his refpect and gratitude. The
perfon obliged, we are apt to think, may with fome
x jufYice,
Sect. 3. Gf Merit and Demerit. 155
juftice, imagine himfelf on a level with the firft :
but we cannot enter into his fentiments, if he does
not feel himfelf inferior to the fecond. It is com-
mon indeed to fay, that we are equally obliged to
the man who has endeavoured to ierve us, as to
him who actually did fo. It is the fpeech which we
conflantly make upon every unfuccefsful attempt of
this kind ; but wtych, like all other fine fpeeches,
muft be underftood with a grain of allowance. The
fentiments which a man of generofity entertains for
the friend who fails, may often indeed be nearly the
fame with thofe which he conceives for him who
iucceeds : and the more generous he is, the more
nearly will thofe fentiments approach to an exact
level. With the truly generous, to be beloved, to
be eiteemed by thofe whom they themfelves think
worthy of efteem, gives more pleafure, and thereby
excites more gratitude, than all the advantages
which they can ever expect from thofe fentiments.
When they lofe thofe advantages therefore, they
feem to lofe but a trifle, which is fcarce worth re-
garding. They flill however lofe fomething. Their
pleafure therefore, and confequently their gratitude,
is not perfectly complete : and accordingly if, be-
tween the friend who fails and the friend who fuc-
ceeds, all other circumftances are equal, there will,
even in the nobleft and the bell mind, be fome little
difference of affection in favour of him who fuc-
ceeds. Nay, fo unjuil are mankind in this rcfped,
that though the intended benefit mould be procured,
yet if it is not procured by the means of a particular
benefactor, they are apt to think that lefs gratitude
is due to the man, who with the beft intentions in
the world could do no more than help it a little for-
ward. As their gratitude is in this cafe divided
among
156 Of Merit and Demerit. Partll.
among the different perfons who contributed to
their pieafure, a fmaller (hare of itfeems due to any
one. Such a perfon, we hear men commonly fay,
intended no doubt to ferve us -, and we really be-
lieve exerted himfelf to the utmoft of his abilities
for that purpofe. We are not, however, obliged to
him for this benefit ; fince had it not been for the
concurrence of others, all that he could have done
would never have brought it about. This confide-
ration, they imagine, mould, even in the eyes of the
impartial fpectator, diminifh the debt which they
owe to him. The perfon himfelf who has unfuccefs-
fully endeavoured to confer a benefit, has by no
means the fame dependency upon the gratitude of
the man whom he meant to oblige, nor the fame
fenfe of his own merit tov/ards him, which he would
have had in the cafe of fuccefs.
Even the merit of talents and abilities which fome
accident has hindered from producing Meir effects,
feems in fome meafure imperfect, even to thofe who
are fully convinced of their capacity to produce
them. The general who has been hindered by the
envy of miniflers from gaining fome great advan-
tage over the enemies of his country, regrets the
lofs of the opportunity for ever after. Nor is it
only upon account of the public that he regrets it.
He laments that he was hindered from performing
an action which would have added a new luftre to
his character in his own eyes, as well as in thofe of
every other perfpn. It fatisfies neither himfelf nor
others to reflect that the plan or defign was all that
depended on him, that no greater capacity was re-
quired to execute it than what was necelfary to con-
cert it : that he was avowed to be every way capa-
ble
Seel. 3. Of Merit and Demerit. 157
ble of executing it, and that had he been permitted
to go on, fuccefs was infallible. He ftill did not
execute it ; and though he might deferve all the ap-
probation which is due to a magnanimous and great
deiign, he ftill wanted the actual merit of having
performed a great action. To take the management
of any affair of public concern from the man who has
almofl brought it to a conclufion, is regarded as the
moft invidious injuftice. As he had done fomuch,
he mould, we think, have been allowed to acquire
the complete merit of putting an end to it. It was
objected to Pompey, that he came in upon the victo-
ries of Lucullus, and gathered thofe laurels which
were due to the fortune and valour of another. The
glory of Lucullus, it feems, was lefs complete even
in the opinion of his own friends, when he was not
permitted to finiih that conquelt which his conduct
and courage had put in the power of almofl any man
to finifh. it mortifies an architect when his plans are
either not executed at all, or when they are fo far al-
tered as to fpoil the effect of the building. The plan,
however, is all that depends upon the architect. The
whole of his genius is, to good judges, as complete-
ly difcovered in that as in the actual execution. But
a plan does not, even to the mod intelligent, give
the fame pleafure as a noble and magnificent build-
ing. They may difcover as much both of tafte and
genius in the one as in the other. But their effects
are ftill vaftly different, and the amufement derived
from the fir/ft, never approaches to the wonder and
admiration which are fometimes excited by the fe-
cond. We may believe of many men, that their
talents are fuperior to thofe of Caefar and Alexander ;
and that in the fame fituations they would perform
ftill greater actions. In the mean time, however,
we
158 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
we do not behold them with that aftonifnment and
admiration with whidh thofe two heroes have been
regarded in all ages and nations. The calm judg-
ments of the mind may approve of them more, but
they want the fplendor of great actions to dazzle and
tranfport it. The fuperiority of virtues and talents
have not, even upon thole who acknowledge that
fuperiority, the fame effect with the fuperiority of
atchievements.
As the merit of an unfuccefsful attempt to do good
feems thus, m the eyes of ungrateful mankind,
to be diminifhed by the mifcarriage, fo does like-
wife the demerit of an unfuccefsful attempt to do evil.
The defign to commit a crime, how clearly foever
it may be proved, is fcarce ever punifhed with the
fame feverity as the actual commiflion of it. The
cafe of treafon is perhaps the only exception. That
crime immediately affecting the being of the govern-
ment itfelf, the government is naturally more jealous
of it than of any other. In the punifhment of trea-
fon, the fovereign refents the injuries which are im-
mediately done to hirhfelf : in the puniftiment of
other crimes, he refents thofe which are done to other
men. It is his own refentment which he indulges in
the one cafe : it is that of his fubjects which by
f\mpathy he enters into it in the other. In the
hi ft cafe, therefore, as he judges in his own caufe,
he is very apt to be more violent and fanguinary in
his punifhments than the impartial fpectator can ap-
| >i (;v c of. His refentment too rifes here upon fmaller
occafions, and does not always, as in other cafes,
wait for the perpetration of the crime, or even for
the attempt to commit it. A treafonable concert,
though nothing has been done, or even attempted in
6 nfequenceof it, nay, a treafonable converfation,
is
Sect. 3. Of Merit and Demerit. 159
is in many countries punilhed in the fame manner as
the actual commiirion of treafon. With regard to
all other crimes, the mere defign, upon which no
attempt has followed, is feldom punilhed at all, and
is never punilhed feverely. A criminal defign, and
a criminal aclion, it may be faid indeed, do not ne-
ceMarily fuppofe the fame degree of depravity, and
ought not therefore to be fubjedted to the fame pu-
nifhment. We are capable, it may belaid, ofre-
folving, and even of taking meafures to execute,
many things which, when it comes to the point, we
feel ourfelves altogether incapable of executing.
Bat this reafon can have no place when the de-
fign has been carried the length of the lad attempt.
The man, however, who fires a piftol at his enemy,
but miffes him, is punidied with death by the laws
of fcarce any country. By the old law of Scotland,
though he mould wound him, yet, unlefs death en-
fues within a certain time, the allanm is not liable to
the laft punifhment, The refentment of mankind,
' however, runs fo high againfl this crime, their terror
for the man who mows himfelf capable of commit-
ting it, is fo great, that the mere attempt to commit
it ought in all countries to be capital. The attempt
to commit fmaller crimes is almoft always punilhed
very lightly, and fometimes is not punilhed at all.
The thief, whofe hand has been caught in his neigh-
bour's pocket^before he had taken any thing out of
it, is punilhed with ignominy only. If he had got
time to take away an handkerchief, he would have
been put to death. The houfe-breaker, who has
been found fetting a ladder to his neighbour's win-
dow, but had not got into it, is notexpofed to the
capital punifhment. The attempt to ravifh is not
punilhed as a rape. The attempt to feduce a mar-
ried
160 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
ried woman is not punifhed at all, though reduction
is punifhed feverely. Our refentment againft the
perfon who only attempted to do a mifchief, is fel-
dom fo ftrong as to bear us out in inflicting the fame
punifhment upon him, which we mould have thought
due if he had actually done it. In the one cafe, the-
joy of our deliverance alleviates our fenfe of the atro-
city of his conduct ; in the other, the grief of our
misfortune increafes it. His real demerit, however,
is undoubtedly the fame in both cafes, fince his inten-
tions were equally criminal : and there is in this ref-
pect, therefore, an irregularity in the fentiments of
all men, and a confequent relaxation of difcipline in
the laws of, I believe, all nations, of the moil civiliz-
ed, as well as of the mofl barbarous. Thu humani-
ty of a civilized people difpofes them either to difpenfe
with, or to mitigate punifhments wherever their natu-
ral indignation is not goaded on by the confequences
of the crime. Barbarians, on the other hand, when
no actual confequence has happened from any action,
are not apt to be very delicate or inquifitive about .
the motives.
The perfon himfelf who either from paffion, or
from the influence of bad company, has refolved?
and perhaps taken meafures to perpetrate fome
crime, but who has fortunately been prevented by
an accident which put it out of his power, is fure, if
he has any remains of conference, to regard this
event all his life after as a great and fignal delive-
rance. He can never think of it without returning
thanks to Heaven for having been thus gracioufly
pleafed to fave him from the guilt in which he was
juft ready to plunge himfelf, and to hinder him from
rendering all the relTbf his life a fcene of horror, re-
morfe, and repentance. But though his hands are
innocent,
Sect. 3 Of Merit and Demerit. i£|
innocent, he is confcious that his heart is equally
guilty as if he had actually executed what he was fo
fully refolved upon. It gives great eafe to his con-
fcience, however, to confider that the crime was not
executed, though he knows that the failure arofe
from- no virtue in him. He ftill confiders himfelf
as lefs deferving of punifhment and refentment ; and
this good fortune either diminifhes, or takes away
altogether, all fenfe of guilt. To remember how
much he was refolved upon it, has no other effect than
to make him regard his efcape as the greater and
more miraculous ■ for he ftill fancies that he has es-
caped, and he looks back upon the danger to which
his peace of mind was expo fed, with that terror,
with which one who is in fafety may fometimes re-
member the hazard he was in of falling over a pre-
cipice, and fhudder with horror at the thought.
2. The fecond effect of this influence of fortune,
is to increafe our fenfe of the merit or demerit of
actions beyond what is due to the motives or affecti-
on from which they proceed, when they happen to
give occafion to extraordinary pleafure or pain. The
agreeable or difagreeable effects of the action often
throw a fhadow of merit or demerit upon the agent,
though in his intention there was nothing that de-
ferved either praife or blame, or atleaft that deferved
them in the degree in which we are apt to beflow
them. Thus, even the meflenger of bad news is
difagreeable to us, and, on the contrary, we feel a
fort of gratitude for the man who brings us good
tidings. For a moment we look upon them both
as the authors, the one of cur good, the other of our
bad fortune, and regard them in fome meafure as
if they had really brought about the events which
M they
i6z Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
they only give an account of. The firft author of
our joy is naturally the object of a tranfit-ry grati-
tude : we embrace him with warmth and affection,
and mould be glad, during the inttant of our profpe-
rity, to reward him as for fome fignal fervice. By
the cuftom of all courts, the officer who brings the
news of a victory, is entitled, to confiderable prefer-
ments, and the general always chufes one of his
principal favourites to go upon fo agieeable an er-
rand. The firft author of our forrow is, on the con-
trary, juft as naturally the object of a tranfitory re-
fentment. We can fcarce avoid looking upon him
with chagrin and uneafinefs ; and the rude and bru-
tal are apt to vent upon him that ipleen which his in-
telligence gives occalion to. Tigranes, King of
Armenia, ftruck off the head of the man who brought
him the firft account of the approach of a formida-
ble enemy. To punifh in this manner the author of
bad tidings, feems barbarous and inhuman ; yet, to
reward the meflenger of good news, is not disagree-
able to us i we think it fui table to the bounty of
kings. But why do we make this difference, fince,
if there is no fault in the one, neither is there any
merit in the other ? It is becaufe any fort of reafon
feems fufficient to authorize the exertion of the focial
and benevolent affections -, but it requires the moft
folid and fubftantial to make us enter into that of the
unfocial and malevolent.
But though in general we are averfe to enter into
the unfocial and malevolent affections, though we
lay it down for a rule that we ought never to approve
of their gratification, unlefs fo far as the malicious
and unjuft intention of the perfon, againft whom
they are directed Fenders him their proper object -,
yet,
Se6\. 3. Of Merit W Demerit. l6s
yet upon fome occafions, we relax of this feverity
When the negligence of one man has occafioned
fome unintended damage to another, we generally
enter fo far into the refentment of the fufFerer as to
approve of his inflicling a punimment upon the of-
fender much beyond what the offence will have ap-
peared to deferve, had no fuch unlucky confe-
quence followed from it.
There is a degree of negligence, which would ap-
pear to deferve fome chaftifement though it mould
occafion no damage to any body. Thus, if a perfon
fhould throw a large ftone over a wall into a public
itreet without giving warning to thofe who might be
pafling by, and without regarding where it was like-
ly to fall, he would undoubtedly deferve fome chaf-
tifement. A very accurate police would punim fo
abfurd an acYion, even though it had done no mif-
chief. The perfon who has been guilty of it, mows
an mfolent contempt of the happinefs and fafety of
others. There is real injuftice in his conduct He
wantonly expofes his neighbour to what no man in
his fenfes would chufe to expofe himfelf, and evident-
ly wants that fenfe of what is due to his fellow-crea-
tures which is the bafis of juftice and of focietv.
Grofs negligence therefore is, in the law, faid to be
almoft equal to malicious defign * When any un-
lucky confequences happen from fuch carelefTnefs,
the perfon who has been guilty of it is often punifh-
ed as if he had really intended thofe confequences ;
and his conduct, which was only thoughtlefs and
mfolent, and what deferved fome chaftifement, is
considered as atrocious, and as liable to the fevered
M 2 v punim-
* Lata culpa prope dolum eft.
164 0/ Merit /z;^ Demerit. Part II.
punifhment. Thus if, by the imprudent aftion
above-mentioned, he mould accidentally kill a man,
he is, by the laws of many countries, particularly by
the old law of Scotland, liable to the laft punifhment.
And though this is no doubt exceflively fevere, it is
not altogether inconfiftent with our natural fenti-
ments. Our juft indignation againft the folly and
inhumanity of his conduct is exafperated by our
fympathy with the unfortunate fufferer. Nothing
however would appear more mocking to our natural
fenfe of equity, than to bring a man to the fcaffold
merely for having thrown a ftone carelefsly into the
ftreet without hurting any body. The folly and in-
humanity of his conduct, however, would in this
cafe be the fame ; but flill our fentiments would be
very different. The confederation of this difference
may fatisfy us how much the indignation, even of
the fpe&ator, is apt to be animated by the a&ual con-
fequences of the action. In cafes of this kind there
will, if I am not miftaken, be found a great degree
of feverity in the laws of almofl all nations ; as I have
already obferved that in thofe of an oppofite. kind
there was a very general relaxation of difcipline.
There is another degree of negligence which does
not involve in it any fort of injuftice. The perfon
who is guilty of it treats his neighbour as he treats
himfelf, means no harm to any body, and is far
from entertaining any infolent contempt for the fafe-
ty and happinefs of others. He is not, however, fo
careful and circumfpect in his conduct as he ought to
be, and deferves upon this account fome degree of
blame and cenfure, but no fort of punifhment. Yet
if by a negligence * of this kind he mould occafion
fome
* Culpa levis.
Sed. 3. Of Merit W Demerit. 165
fome damage to another perfon, he is by the laws of,
I believe, all countries, obliged to compenfate it.
And though this is no doubt a real puniihment, and
what no mortal would have thought of inflicting
upon him, had it not been for the unlucky accident
which his conduct gave occafion to ; yet this decifion
of the law is approved of by the natural fentiments
of all mankind. Nothing, we think, can be more
juft than that one man mould not fuffer by the care-
lefTnefs of another ; and that the damage occafioned
by blamable negligence fhould be made up by the
perfon who was guilty of it.
There is another fpecies of negligence % which
confifts merely in a want of the moil anxious timi-
dity and circumfpedion, with regard to all the pofli-
ble confequences of our adions. The want of this
painful attention, when no bad confequences follow
from it, is fo far from being regarded as blamable,
that the contrary quality is rather confidered as fuch.
That timid circumfpedion which is afraid of every
thing, is never regarded as a virtue, but as a quality
which more than any other incapacitates for adion
and bufmefs. Yet when, from a want of this ex-
ceffive care, a perfon happens to occafion fome da-
mage to another, he is often by the law obliged to
compenfate it. Thus, by the Aquilian law, the man,
who not being able to manage a horfe that had acci-
dentally taken fright, fhould happen to ride down
his neighbour's Have, is obliged to compenfate the
damage. When an accident of this kind happens,
we are apt to think that he ought not to have rode
fuch a horfe, and to regard his attempting it as an un-
M 3 pardonable
* Culpa leviflitna.
166 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
pardonable levity ; though without this accident we
mould not only have made no fuch reflection, but
ihould have regarded his refufing it as the effect of
timid weaknefs, and of an anxiety about merely
pofhble events, which it is to no purpofe to be aware
of. The perfon himfelf, who by an accident even of
this kind has involuntarily hurt another, feems to
have fome fenfe of his own ill defert, with regard
to him. He naturally runs up to the fufferer to ex-
prefs his concern for what has happened, and to
make every acknowledgment in his power. If he
has any fenfibility, he neceiTarily defires to compen-
fate the damage, and to do every thing he can to
appeafe that animal refentment, which he is fenfi-
ble will be apt to arife in the breait of the fufferer.
To make no apology, to offer no atonement, is re-
garded as the highelt brutality. Yet why mould he
make an apology more than any other perfon ?
Why fhould he, fince he was equally innocent with
any other by-ftander, be thus fingled out from
among all mankind, to make up for the bad fortune
of another ? This tafk would furely never be impof-
ed upon him, did not even the impartial fpeftator
feel fome indulgence for what may be regarded as
the unjuft refentment of that other.
CHAP.
-•■*---i
Sect. 3. O/Merit WDemerit. 167
CHAP. III.
Of the final caufe of this irregularity of fenti-
ments.
s
U C H is the effect of the good or bad confe-
quence of actions upon the fentiments both of
the perfon who performs them, and of others ; and
thus, Fortune, which governs the world, has fome
influence where we mould be leaft willing to allow
her any, and directs in fome meafure the fentiments
of mankind, with regard to the character and con-
duel: both of themfelves and others. That the world
judges by the event, and not by the defign, has been
in all ages the complaint, and is the great difcou-
ragement of virtue. Every body agrees to the gene-
ral maxim, that as the event does not depend on the
agent, it ought to have no influence upon your fenti-
ments, with regard to the merit or propriety of his
conduct. But when we come to particulars, we
find that our fentiments are fcarce in any one in-
ftance exactly conformable to what this equitable
maxim would direct. The happy or unprofperous
event of any action, is not only apt to give us a good
or bad opinion of the prudence with which it was
conducted, but almoft always too animates our gra-
titude or refentment, our fenfe of the merit or de-
merit of the defign.
M 4 Nature,
i68 0/ Merit and Demerit. PartH.
Nature, however, when fhe implanted the feeds
of this irregularity in the human breaft, feems, as
upon all other occafions, to have intended the happi-
nefs and perfection of the fpecies. If the hurtfulnefs
of the defign, if the malevolence of the affection,
were alone the caufes which excited our refentment,
we mould feel all the furies of that paflion againft any
perfon in whofe breaft we fufpected or believed fuch
defigns or affections were harboured, though they
had never broke out into any actions. Sentiments,
thoughts, intentions, would become the objects of
punifhment •, and if the indignation of mankind ran
as high againft them as againft actions ; if the bafe-
nefs of the thought which had given birth to no acti-
on, feemed in the eyes of the world as much to call
aloud for vengeance as the bafenefs of the action,
every court ofjudicature would become a real inqui-
fition. There would be no fafety for the moft in-
nocent and circumfpect conduct. Ead wifhes, bad
views,bad defigns, might ftill be fufpected-, and while
thefe excited the fame indignation with bad conduct,
while bad intentions were as much refented as bad
actions, they would equally expofe the perfon to pu-
nifhment and refentment. Actions therefore which
either produce actual evil, or attempt to produce it,
and thereby put us in the immediate fear of it, are by
the Author of nature rendered the only proper and
approved objects of human punifhment and refent-
ment. Sentiments, defigns, affections, though it is
from thefe that according to cool reafon human
actions derive their whole merit or. demerit, are
placed by the great Judge of hearts beyond the li-
mits of every human jurisdiction, and are referved
for the cognizance ^of his own unerring tribunal.
That
Se£t. 3. Of Merit and Demerit. 169
That neceflary rule ofjaftice, therefore, that men
in this life are liable to punifhment for their actions
only, not for their defigns and intentions, is founded
upon this falutary and ufeful irregularity in human
fentiments concerning merit or demerit, which at
firft. fight appears fo abfurd and unaccountable.
But every part of nature, when attentively furveyed,
equally demonflrates the providential care of its
Author, and we may admire the wifdom and good*
nefs of God even in the weaknefs and folly of
men.
Nor is that irregularity of fentiments altogether
without its utility, by which the merit of an unfuc-
cefsful attempt to ferve, and much more that of mere
good inclinations and kind wifhes, appears to be im-
perfect. Man was made for action, and to promote
by the exertion of his faculties fiich changes in
the external circumftances both of himfelf and
others, as may feem moll favourable to the happi-
nefs of all. He mud not be fatisfied with indolent
benevolence, nor fancy himfelf the friend of man-
kind, becaufe in his heart he wifhes well to the prof-
perity of the world. That he may call forth the
whole vigour of his foul, and llrain every nerve, in
order to produce thofe ends which it is the purpofe of
his being to advance, Nature has taught him, that
neither himfelf nor mankind can be fully fatisfied
with his conduct, nor bellow upon it the full meafure
of applaufe, unlefs he has actually produced them.
He is made to know, that the praife of good inten-
tions, without the merit of good offices, will be but of
little avail to excite either the louden1 acclamations
of the world, or even the highefl degree of felf-ap-
plaufe. The man who has performed no fmgle
action of importance, but whole whole converfation
and
170 Of Merit and Demerit. Part II.
and deportment exprefs the jufteft, the nobleft, and
moil generous fentiments, can be entitled to demand
no very high reward, even though his inutility mould
be owing to nothing but the want of an opportunity
to ferve. We can it ill refufe it him without blame,
We can ftill aik him, what have you done ? What
actual fervice can you produce, to entitle you to fo
great a recompenfe ? We eiteem you, and love you ;
but we owe you nothing. To reward indeed that
latent virtue which has been ufelefs only for want of
an opportunity to ferve, to bellow upon it thofe
honours and preferments, which, though in fome
meaiureit may be faid to deferve them, it could not
with propriety have infilled upon, is the effect of the
molt divine benevolence. To punifh, on the con-
trary, for the affections of the heart only, where no
crime has been committed, is the mod infolent and
barbarous tyranny. The benevolent affections feem
to deferve moil praife, when they do not wait till it
becomes almoit a crime for them not to exert them-
felves. The malevolent, on the contrary, can fcarce
be too tardy, too flow, or deliberate.
It is even of ufe that the evil which is done without
defign fhould be regarded as a misfortune to the doer
as well as to the fufferer. Man is thereby taught to
reverence the happinefs of his brethren, to tremble
left he fhould, even unknowingly, do any thing that
can hurt them, and to dread that animal refentment
which he feels is ready to buril out againil him, if
he fhould without defign be the unhappy inilrument
of their calamity.
Notwithstanding, however, all thefe feeming irre-
gularities of ientim&it, if man fhould unfortunately
either
Sect. 3. Of Merit and Demerit. 171
either give occafion to thofe evils which he did not
intend, or fail in producing that good which he in-
tended, nature has not left his innocence altogether
without confolation, nor his virtue altogether with-
out reward. He then calls to his afriftance that juft
and equitable maxim, that thofe events which did
not depend upon our conduct ought not to diminim
the efteem that is due to us. He fummons up his
whole magnanimity and firmnefs of foul, and ftrives
to regard himfelf, not in the light in which he at
prefent appears, but in that in v/hich he ought
to appear, in which he would have appeared
had his generous defigns been crowned with fuc-
cefs, and in which he would flill appear, notwith-
ftanding their mifcarriage, if the fentiments of man-
kind were either altogether candid and equitable, or
even perfectly confident with themfelves. The
more candid and humane part of mankind entirely go
along with the efforts which he thus makes to fup-
port himfelf in his own opinion. They exert their
whole generofity and greatn6fs of mind, to correct
in themfelves this irregularity of human nature, and
endeavour to regard his unfortunate magnanimity in
the fame light in which, had it been fuccefsful, they
would, without any fuch generous exertion, have na-
turally been difpofed to confider it.
PART
PART III.
Of the foundation of our judgments con-
cerning our own fentiments and conduit,
and of the fenfe of duty.
CONSISTING OF ONE SECTION.
CHAP. I.
Of the confcioufnefs of merited praife or blame.
i
N the two foregoing parts of this difcourfe, I have
chiefly confidered the origin and foundation of our
judgments concerning the fentiments and conduct
of others. I come now to confider the origin of
thofe concerning our own.
The defire of the approbation and efteem of thofe
we live with, which is of fuch importance to our
happinefs, cannot be fully and entirely contented but
by rendering ourfelves thejuft and proper objects of
thofe fentiments, and by adjufling our own charac-
ter and conduct according to thofe meafures and
rules by which efteem and approbation are naturally
bellowed. It is not fufficient, that from ignorance
or
1^4 Of /^Sense Part III,
or miilake, efleem and approbation fhould fome way
or other be bellowed upon us. If we are confcious
that we do not defer ve to be fo favourably thought
of, and that if the truth was known, we fhould be
regarded with very oppofite fentiments, our fatisfac-
tion is far frorri being complete. The man who ap-
plauds us either for actions which we did not per-
form, or for motives which had no fort of influence
upon our conduct, applauds not us, but another pei-
fon. We can derive no fort of fatisfaction from his
praifes. To us they fhould be more mortifying than
any cenfure, and fhould perpetually call to our minds>
the moil humbling of all reflections, the reflection
upon what we ought to be, but what we are not. A
woman who paints to conceal her uglinefs, could de-
Vive, one fhould imagine, but little vanity from the
compliments that are paid to her beauty. Thefe,
we fhould expect, ought rather to put her in mind of
the fentiments which her real complexion would ex-
cite, and mortify her more by the contrail:. To be
pleafed with fuch groundlefs applaufe is a proof of
the moll fuperficial levity and weaknefs. It is what
is properly called vanity, and is the foundation of the
mofl ridiculous and contemptible vices, the vices of
affectation and common lying ; follies which, if ex-
perience did not teach us how common they are, one
ihould imagine the leail fpark of common fenk
would lave us from. The foolifh liar, who endea-
vours to excite the admiration of the company by
the relation of adventures which never had any ex-
iilence, the important coxcomb who gives himfelf
airs of rank and diilinction which he well knows he
has no juft pretenfions to, are both of them, no
i libt, pleafed with the applaufe which they fancy
they
Chap. i. of D u t y. 175
they meet with. But their vanity arifes from fo
grofs an illufion of the imagination, that it is difficult
to conceive how any rational creature mould be im-
pofed upon by it. When they place themfelves in
the fituation of thofe whom they fancy they have
deceived, they are ftruck with the higheit admiration
for their own perfons. They look upon themfelves,
not in that light in which, they know, they ought to
appear to their companions, but in that in which
they believe their companions actually look upon
them. Their fuperncial weaknefs and trivial folly
hinder them from ever turning their eyes inwards,
or from feeing themfelves in that defpicable point of
view in which their own confciences mould tell them
that they would appear to every body, if the real
truth mould ever come to be known.
As ignorant and groundlefs praife can give no fo-
lid joy, no fatisfaction that will bear any ferious ex-
amination, fo, on the contrary, it often gives real
comfort to reflect, that though no praife mould ac-
tually be beftowed upon us, our conduct, however, has
been fuch as to deferve it, and has been in every ref-
pedt fuitable to thofe meafures and rules by which
praife and approbation are naturally and commonly
beftowed.Wearepleafed not only with praife, but with
having done what is praife- worthy . We are pleafed to
think that we have rendered ourfelves the natural
objects of approbation, though no approbation,
mould ever actually be beftowed upon us : and we
are mortified to reflect that we have juftly incurred
the blame of thofe we live with, though that fenti-
xnent fhould never actually be exerted againft us.
The
176 0/ 'the S e n s e v Part III.
The man who is confcious to himfeif that he has ex-
actly obferved thofe meafures of conduct which ex-
perience informs him are generally agreeable, re-
flects with fatisfaction on the propriety of his own
behaviour -, when he views it in the light in which
the impartial fpectator would view it, he thoroughly
enters into all the motives which influenced it ; he
looks back upon every part of it with pleafure
and approbation, and though mankind mould never
be acquainted with what he has done, he regards
himfeif not fo much according to the light in which
they actually regard him, as according to that, in
which they would regard him if they were better in-
formed. He anticipates the applaufe and admira-
tion which in this cafe would be bellowed upon
him, and he applauds and admires himfeif by fym-
pathy with fentiments which do not indeed actually
take place, but which the ignorance of the public
alone hinders from taking place, which he knows are
the natural and ordinary effects of fuch conduct,
which his imagination ftrongly connects with it,
and which he has acquired a habit of conceiving as
fomething that naturally and in propriety ought to
flow from it. Men have often voluntarily thrown
away life to acquire after death a renown which they
could no longer enjoy. Their imagination, in the
mean time, anticipated that fame which was there-
after to be bellowed upon them. Thofe applaufes
which they were never to hear rung in their ears ;
the thoughts of that admiration, whofe effects they
were never to feel, played about their hearts, banilTi-
ed from their breafts the ftrongeft of all natural fears,
and tranfported them to perform actions which feem
almofl beyond the reach of human nature. But in
x point
Chap. i. (/Duty. 177
point of reality there is furely no great difference
between that approbation which is not to be bellow-
ed till we can no longer enjoy it, and that which in-
deed is never to be bellowed, but which would be
bellowed if the world was ever made to underftand
properly the real circumllances of our behaviour.
If the one often produces fuch violent effects-, we
cannot wonder that the other mould always be high-
ly regarded.
On the contrary, the man who has broke through
all thofe meafures of conduct, which can alone ren-
der him agreeable to mankind, tho' he mould have
the moll perfect alfurance that what he had done
was for ever to be concealed from every human eye,
it is all to no purpofe. When he looks back upon it,
and views it in the light in which the impartial fpec-
tator would view it, he finds that he can enter into
none of the motives which influenced it. He is abafhed
and confounded at the thoughts of it, and necefla-
rily feels a very high degree of that Ihame which he
would be expofed to, if his actions mould ever come
to be generally known. His imagination, in this
cafe too, anticipates the contempt and derifion from
which nothing faves him but the ignorance of thofe
he lives with. He Hill feels that he is the natural
object of thefe fentiments, and ftill trembles at the
thought of what he would fufTer if they were ever ac-
tually exerted againll him. But if what he had been
guilty of was not merely one of thofe improprieties
which are the objects of fimple difapprobation, but
one of thofe enormous crimes which excite detefla-
tion and refentment, he could never think of it, as
long as he had any fenfibility left, without feeling all
N the
178 Of the S e n s e # PartllL
the agony of horror and remorfc ; and though he
could be allured that no man was ever to know it,
and could even bring himfelf to believe that there
was no God to revenge it, he would ftill feel enough
of both thefe fentiments to embitter the whole of his
life : He would ftill regard himfelf as the natural object
of the hatred and indignation of all his fellow-crea-
tures ; and if his heart was not grown callous by the
habit of crimes, he could not think without terror and
aftonifhment even of the manner in which mankind
would look upon him, of what would be the expref-
fion of their countenance and of their eyes, if the
dreadful truth mould ever come to be known.
Thefe natural pangs of an affrighted conference are
the daemons, the avenging furies which in this life
haunt the guilty, which allow them neither quiet nor
repofe, which often drive them to defpair and dif-
traction, from which no aiTurance of fecrecy can pro-
tect them, from which no principles of irreligion can
entirely deliver them, and from which nothing can
free them but the vileft and mod abject of all ftates,
a complete infenfibility of honour and infamy, to
vice and virtue. Men of the moft deteftable charac-
ters, who, in the execution of the moft dreadful
crimes, had taken their meafures fo coolly as to avoid
even the fufpicion of guilt, have fometimes been
driven, by the horror of their fituation, to difcover of
their own accord, what no human fagacity could ever
have inveftigated. By acknowledging their guilt,
by fubmitting themfelves to the refentment of their
offended citizens, and by thus fatiating that ven-
geance of which they were fenfible that they were be-
come the proper objects, they hoped by their death
to
Chap. I. of D U T Y. ijg
to reconcile themfelves, at leaft in their own imagi-
nation, to the natural fentiments of mankind, to be
able to confider themfelves as lefs worthy of hatred
and refentment, to atone in fome meafure for their
crimes, and, if poflible, to die in peace and with the
forgivenefs of all their fellow-creatures. Compared
to what they felt before the difcovery, even the
thought of this, it feems, was happinefs.
Nz CHAP.
iZo Of the Sense Part III.
CHAP. II.
In what manner our own judgments refer to vjhat ought
to be the judgments of others : and of the origin of ge-
neral rules.
A
Great part, perhaps the greateft part, of human
happinefs and mifery arifes from the view of our
paft conduct, and from the degree of approbation or
difapprobation which we feel from the conlideration
of it. But in whatever manner it may affect us, our
fentiments of this kind have always fome fecret re-
ference either to what are, or to what upon a certain
condition would be, or to what we imagine ought to
be the fentiments of others. We examine it as we
imagine an impartial ipectator would examine it. If
upon placing ourfelves in his fituation we thoroughly
enter into all the pailions and motives which influ-
enced it, we approve of it by fympathy with the ap-
probation of this fuppofed equitable judge. If other-
wife, we enter into his difapprobation and condemn
it.
Was it poffible that a human creature could grow
up to manhood in fome folitary place without any
communication with his own fpecies, he could no
more think- of his own character, of the propriety or
demerit of his own fentiments and conduct, of the
beauty or deformity of his own mind, than of the
beauty or deformity of his own face. All thefe are
objects which he cannot eafily fee, which naturally
he does not look at ; and with regard to which he
is
Chap. 2. of D u t y; igr
is provided with no mirror which can prefent them
to his view. Bring him into fociety, and he is im-
mediately provided with the mirror which he want-
ed before. It is placed in the countenance and be-
haviour of thofe he lives with, which always mark
when they enter into, and when they difap-
prove of his fentiments ; and it is here that he firft
views the propriety and impropriety of his own
paffions, the beauty and deformity of his own
mind. To a man who from his birth was a ftran-
ger to fociety, the objects of his paffions, the ex-
ternal bodies which either pleafed or hurt him, would
occupy his whole attention. The paffions them-
felves, the defires or averfions, the joys or forrows,
which thofe objects excited, though of all things
the moil immediately prefent to him, could fcarce
ever be the objects of his thoughts. The idea of
them could never intereft him fo much as to call
upon his attentive confideration. The confideration
of his joy could in him excite no new joy, nor that
of his forrow any new forrow, though the confider-
ation of the caufes of thofe paffions might often ex-
cite both. Bring him into fociety, and ail his own
paffions will immediately become the caufes of new
paffions. He will obferve that mankind approve of
fome of them, and are difguited by others. He will
be elevated in the one cafe, and call down in the
other; his defires and averfions, his joys and for-
rows will now often become the caufes of new de-
fires and new averfions, new joys and new forrows:
they will now therefore intereft him deeply, and of-
ten call upon his molt attentive confideration.
Our nrft ideas of perfonal beauty and deformity,
are drawn from the fhape and appearance of others ,.
not from our own. We foon become fenfible, how-
N 3 ever^
1 82 O/ASense PartllL
ever, that others exercife the fame criticifm upon us.
We are pleafed when they approve of our figure,
and are difobliged when they feem to be difgufted.
We become anxious to know how far our appear-
ance defer ves either their blame or approbation. We
examine our own perfons limb by limb, and by
placing ourfelves before a looking-glafs, or by fome
fuch expedient, endeavour, as much as poffible, to
view ourfelves at the diflance and with the eyes of
other people. If after this examination we are fatis-
fied with our own appearance, we can more eafily
fupport the moil difadvantageous judgments of
others : if, on the contrary, we are fenfible that we
are the natural objects of diftafte, every appearance
of their difapprobation mortifies us beyond all mea-
fure. A man who is tolerably handfome, will allow
you to laugh at any little irregularity in his perfon ;
but all fuch jokes are commonly infupportable to one
who is really deformed. It is evident, however,
that we are anxious about our own beauty and defor-
mity only on account of its effect upon others. If
we had no connexion with fociety, we mould be al-
together indifferent about either.
In the fame manner our firft moral criticifms are
exercifed upon the characters and conduct of other
people ; and we are all very forward to obferve how
each of thefe affects us. But we foon learn, that
others are equally frank with regard to our own.
We become anxious to know how far we deferve
their ceniure or applaufe, and whether to them we
mult neceffarily appear thofe agreeable or difagree-
able creatures which they reprefent us. We begin
upon this account to examine our own palfions and
conduct, and to confider how thefe muft appear to
them, by confidering how they would appear to
us
Chap. 2. of D u t y. 183
us if in their fituation. We fuppofe ourfelves the
fpectator s of our own behaviour, and endeavour to
imagine what effect it would, in this light, produce
upon us. This is the only looking-glafs by which
we can, in fome meafure, with the eyes of others,
fcrutinize the propriety of our own conduct. If in
this view it pleafes us, we are tolerably fatisfied. We
can be more indifferent about the applaufe, and, in
fome meafure, defpife the cenfure of others ■ fecure
that, however mifunderftood or mifreprefented, we
are the natural and proper objects of approbation,
On the contrary, if we are difpleafed with it, we are
often upon that very account more anxious to gain
their approbation, and, provided we have not alrea-
dy, as they fay, lhaken hands with infamy, we are
altogether diffracted at the thoughts of their cen-
fure, which then ftrikes us with double feverity.
When I endeavour to examine my own conduct,
when I endeavour to pafs fentence upon it, and ei-
ther to approve or condemn it, it is evident that, in
all fuch cafes, I divide myfelf, as it were, into two
perfons, and that I, the examiner and judge, repre-
fent a different character from that other I, the per-
fon whofe conduct is examined into and judged of.
The firft is the fpectator, whofe fentiments with re-
gard to my own conduct I endeavour to enter into,
by placing myfelf in his fituation, and by confider-
ing how it would appear to me when feen from that
particular point of view. The fecond is the agent,
the perfon whom I properly call myfelf, and of
whofe conduct, under the character of a fpectator,
I was endeavouring to form fome opinion. The
firfl is the judge ; the fecond the pannel. But that
the judge mould, in every refpect, be the fame
N 4 with
1 84 Of the Sense Part III.
with the pannel, is as impoflible, as that the caufe
fhould, in every refpect, be the fame with the effect.
To be amiable and to be meritorious, that is, to
deferve love and to deferve reward, are the great
characters of virtue, and to be odious and punifria-
ble, of vice. But all thefe characters have an imme-
diate reference to the fentiments of others. Virtue
is not faid to be amiable or to be meritorious, be-
caufe it is the object of its own love, or of its own
gratitude ; but becaufe it excites thofe fentiments in
other men. The confcioufnefs that it is the object
of fuch favourable regards is the fourceof that in-
ward tranquillity and felf-fatisfaction with which it
is naturally attended, as the fufpicion of the contra-
ry gives occafion to the torments of vice. What fo
great happinefs as to be beloved, and to know that
we deferve to be beloved ? What fo great mifery
as to be hated, and to know that we deferve to be
hated ?
Man is confidered as a moral, becaufe he is re-
garded as an accountable being. But an account-
able being, as the word expreffes, is a being that
muft give an account of its actions to fome other,
and that confequently muft regulate them accord-
ing to the good liking of this other. Man is ac-
countable to God and his fellow-creatures. But
though he is, no doubt, principally accountable to
God ; in the order of time, he muft necelfarily con-
ceive himfelfas accountable to his fellow-creatures,
before he can form any idea of the Deity, or of the
rules by which that divine being will judge of his
conduct. A child furely conceives itfelf as account-
able to its parents,>and ic elevated or caft down by
the
Chap. 2. of. Duty. 185
the thought of their merited approbation or difap-
probation, long before it forms any idea of its ac-
countablenefs to the Deity, or of the rules by which
that divine being will judge of its conduct.
The great judge of the world, has, for the wifeft
reafons, thought proper to interpofe, between the
weak eye of human reafon, and the throne of his
eternal juflice, a degree of obicurity and darknefs,
which though it does not entirely cover that great
tribunal from the view of mankind, yet renders the
imprefllon of it faint and feeble in cumparifon of
what might be expected from the grandeur and im-
portance of fo mighty an object. If thofe infinite
rewards and punifhitients which the Almighty has
prepared for thofe who obey or tranfgrefs his will,
v. ere perceived as diftinctly as we forefee the frivo-
lous and temporary retaliations which we may ex-
pect from one another, the weaknefs of human na-
ture, altonifhed at the immenfity of objects fo little
fitted to its comprehenfion, could no longer attend
to the little affairs of this world ; and it is abfolutely
impoflible that the bufinefs of fociety could have
been carried on, if, in this refpect, there had been a
fuller revelation of the intentions of Providence
than that which has already been made. That
men, however, might never be without a rule to
direct their conduct by, nor without a judge whofe
authority mould enforce its obfervation, the Author
of nature has made man the immediate judge of
mankind, and has, in this refpect, as in many
others, created him after his own image, and ap-
pointed him his vicegerent upon earth, to fuperin-
tend the behaviour of his brethren. They are
taught by nature to acknowledge that power and
jurifdiction
1 86 Of the Se n s e Part III.
jurisdiction which has thus been conferred upon him,
and to tremble and exult according as they imagine
thr.t they have either merited his cenfure, or deferved
his applaufe.
But whatever may be the authority of this inferior
tribunal which is continually before their eyes, if at
any time it mould decide contrary to thofe princi-
ples and rules, which Nature has eftablimed for re-
gulating its judgments, men feel that they may ap-
peal from this unjuft decifion, and call upon a fupe-
rior tribunal, the tribunal eftablifhed in their own
breafts, to redrefs the injuftice of this weak or par-
tial judgment.
There are certain principles eftablifhed by Nature
for governing our judgment concerning the conduct
of thofe we live with. As long as we decide accord-
ing to thofe principles, and neither applaud nor con-
demn any thing which Nature has not rendered the
proper object of applaufe or condemnation, nor any
further than fhe has rendered it fuch, as our lentence
is, in this cafe, if I may fay fo, quite agreeable to
law, it is liable neither to repeal nor to correction of
any kind. The perfon concerning whom we form
thefe judgments, mud himfelf necerTarily approve of
them. When he puts himfelf into our fituation, he
cannot avoid viewing his own conduct in the very
fame light in which we appear to view it. He is
fenfible, that to us, and to every impartial fpectator,
he muft necerTarily appear the natural and proper ob-
ject: of thofe fentiments which we exprefs with regard
to him. Thofe fentiments, therefore, muft necefla-
rily produce their full effect upon him, and he cannot
fail to conceive all the* triumph of felf-approbation
- from,
Chap. 2. of Du t y. 187
from, what appears to him, fuch merited applaufe,
as well as all the horrors of fhar&e from, what, he
is fenfible, is fuch deferved condemnation.
But it is otherwife, if we have either applauded or
condemned him, contrary to thofe principles and
rules which Nature has eftablifhed for the direction
of our judgments concerning every thing of this
kind. If we have either applauded or condemned
him for what, when he put himfelf into ourfituation,
does not appear to him to be the object either of ap-
plaufe or condemnation ; as in this cafe he cannot
enter into our fentiments, provided he has any con-
itancy or firmnefs, he is but little affected by them,
and can neither be much elevated by the favourable,
nor greatly mortified by the unfavourable decifion.
The applaufe of the whole world will avail but little,
if our own confidence condemn us -, and the difap-
probation of all mankind is not capable of oppreffmg
us, when we are abfolved by the tribunal within our
own breaft, and when our own mind tells us that
mankind are in the wrong.
But though this tribunal within the bread be thus
the fupreme arbiter of all our actions, though it can
reverfe the decifions of all mankind with regard to
our character and conduct, and mortify us amidfl
the applaufe, or fupport us under the cenfure of the
world ; yet, if we inquire into the origin of its in-
ftitution, its jurisdiction we fhall find is in a great
meafure derived from the authority of that very tribu-
nal, whofe decifions it fo often andfojuftly reverfes.
When wefirft come into the world, from the na
tural defire to pleafe, we accuftom ourfelves to con-
fider
1 88 0//fo Sense . Part III.
fider what behaviour is likely to be agreeable to every
perfon we converfe wi th, to our parents, to our mas-
ters, to our companions. We addreis ourfelves to
individuals, and for fome time fondly purfue the im-
polTible and abfurd project of gaining the good- will
and approbation of every body. We are foon
taught by experience, however, that this universal
approbation is altogether unattainable. As foon as
we come to have more important interefts to manage,
we find, that by pleafmg one man, we almoft cer-
tainly di-fobl;ge another, and that by humouring an
individual, we may often irritate a whole people.
The faireft and moil equitable conduct mull
frequently obftruct the interefls, or thwart the
inclinations of particular perfons, who will feldom
have candour enough to enter into the propriety ofour
motives, or to fee that this conduct, how difagreeable
foever to them, is perfectly fui table to our fituation.
In order to defend ourfelves from fuch partial judg-
ments, we foon learn to fet up in our own minds a,
judge between ourfelves and thofe we live with. Wc
conceive ourfelves as acting in the prefence of a per-
fon quite candid and equitable, of one who has no
particular relation either to ourfelves, or to thofe
whofe interefls are affected by our conduct, who is
neither father, nor brother, nor friend either to them
or to us, but is merely a man in general, an impar-
tial fpectator who confiders our conduct with the
fame indifference with which we regard that of other
people. If, when we place ourfelves in the fituation
of fuch a perfon, -our own actions appear to us under
an agreeable afpect, if we feel that fuch a fpectator
cannot avoid entering into all the motives which
influenced
Chap. 2. of D u t y. 189
influenced us, whatever may be the judgments of the
world, we mufl ft ill be pleafed with our own beha-
viour, and regard ourfelves, in fpite of the cenfure
of our companions, as the juft and proper objects of
approbation.
On the contrary, if the man within condemns us,
the lcudeft acclamations of mankind appear but as
the noife of ignorance and folly, and whenever we
alTume the character of this impartial judge, we can-
not avoid viewing our own actions with this diftafte
and diffatisfaction. The weak, the vain, and the fri-
volous, indeed, may be mortified by the mod ground-
lefs cenfure, or elated by the moil abfurd applaufe.
Such perfons are not accuitomed to confult the judge
within concerning, the opinion which they ought to
form of their own conduct. This inmate of the
breaft, this abftra£t man, the reprefentative of man-
kind, and fubititute of the Deity, whom Nature has
conftituted the fupreme judge of all their actions, is
feldom appealed to by them. They are contented
with the decifion of the inferior tribunal. The ap-
probation of their companions, of the particular per-
fons whom they have lived and converfed with, has
o-enerally been the ultimate object of all their wifhes.
If they obtain this, their joy is complete ; and if they
fail, they are entirely disappointed. They never
think of appealing to the fuperior court. They have
feldom inquired after its decifions, and are altoge-
gether unacquainted with the rules and forms of its
procedure. When the world injures them, there-
fore, they are incapable of doing themfelves juftice,
and are, in confequence, neceifarily the flaves of the
world,
i go Of the Sense . Part III.
world. But it is otherwife with the man who has,
upon all cccafions, been accuftomed to have recourfe
to the judge within, and to con fider, not what the
world approves or difapproves of, but what appears
to this impartial fpectator, the natural and proper
object of approbation or difapprobation. The judg-
ment of this fupreme arbiter of his conduct, is the
applaufe, which he has been accuftomed principally
to court, is the cenfure which he has been accuftom-
ed principally to fear. Compared with this final de-
cifion, the fentiments of all mankind, though not
altogether indifferent, appear to be but of fmall mo-
ment ; and he is incapable of being either much
elevated by their favourable, or greatly deprefTed by
their moll difadvantageous judgment.
It is only by consulting this judge within, that we
can fee whatever relates to ourfelves in its proper
fliape and dimenfions, or that we can make any pro-
per comparifon between our own interefls and thofe
of other men.
As to the eye of the body, objects appear great or
fmall, not fo much according to their real dimenfions,
as according to the nearnefs or diftance of their fitu-
ation j fo do they likewife to what may be called the
natural eye of the mind : and we remedy the defects
of both thefe organs pretty much in the fame manner.
In my prefent fituation an immenfe landfcape of
lawns, and woods, and diftant mountains, feems to
do no more than cover the little window which I
write by, and to be out of all proportion lefs than the
chamber in which I am fitting. lean form a juft
comparifon between thofe great objects and the
little objects around me, in no other way, than by
tran-
Chap. 2. of D u *r Y. t$t
iranfporting myfeif, at lean: in fancy, to a different
ftation, from whence I can furvey both at nearly
equal diflances, and thereby forrri fome judgment
of their real proportions. Habit and experience have
taught me to do this fb eafily and fo readily, that I
am icarce fenfible that I do it •, and a man muft be,
in Tome meafure, acquainted with the philofophy of
vifion, before he can be thoroughly convinced, how
little thofe diftant objects would appear to the eye,
if the imagination, from a knowledge of, their real
magnitudes, did not fwell and dilate them.
In the fame manner, to the felnfh and original
pailions of human nature, the lofs or gain of a very
fmall intereft of our own, appears to be of vaflly
more importance, excites a much more paflionate
joy or forrow, a much more ardent defire or averfion,
than the greater! concern of another with whom we
have no particular connexion. His interefls, as long
as they are furveyed from this ftation, can never be
put into the balance with our own, can never re-
strain us from doing whatever may tend to promote
our own, how ruinous foever to him. Before we
can make any proper comparifon of thofe oppofite
interefts, we muft change our pofition. We muft
view them, neither from our own place, nor yet
from his, neither with our own eyes nor yet with his,
but from the place, and with the eyes of a third per-
fon, who has no particular connexion with either, and
who judges with impartiality between us. Here too,
habit and experience have taught us to do this fo
eafily and fo readily, that we are fcarce fenfible that
we do it ; and it requires, in this cafe too, fome
degree of reflection, and even of philofophy to con-
vince us, how little intereft we mould take in the
greateft
lgz Of the S e n s e - Part III.
greatefl concerns of our neighbour, how little we
mould be affected by whatever relates to him, if the
fenfe of propriety andjuftice did not correct the
otherwife natural inequality of our fentiments.
Let us fuppofe that the great empire of China,
with all its myriads of inhabitants, was fuddeniy
fwallowed up by an earthquake, and let us confider
how a man of humanity in Europe, who had no fort
of connexion with that part of the world, would be
affected upon receiving intelligence of this dreadful
calamity. He would, I imagine, firft of all, exprefs
very flrongly his forrow for the misfortune of that
unhappy people, he would make many melancholy
reflections upon the precarioufnefs of human life, and
the vanity of all the labours of man, which could
thus be annihilated in a moment. He v/ould too,
perhaps, if he was a man of fpeculation, enter into
many reafonings concerning the effects which this
di falter might produce upon the commerce of Europe,
and the trade and bufmefs of the world in general.
And when all this fine phiiofophy was over, when all
thefe humane fentiments had been once fairly ex-
preffed, he would purfue his bufmefs or his pleafure,
take his repofe or his diverfion, with the fame eafe
and tranquility, as if no fuch accident had happened.
The moit frivolous difalter which could befai himfelf
would occafion a more real difturbance. If he was
to lofe his little finger to-morrow, he v/ould not deep
to-night ; but provided he never faw them, he will
fnore with the moft profound fecurity over the ruin
of a hundred millions of his brethren, and the de-
ftruction of that immenfe multitude feems plainly
an object lefs interefting to him, than this paultiy
misfortune of his owrr> To prevent therefore, this
- paultry
Chap. 2. of D u t y. 193
paultry misfortune to himfelf would a man of hurra-.
ni/ty be willing to facrifice the lives of a hundred
millions of his brethren, provided he had never (tQa
them ? Human nature ftartles with horror at the
thought, and the world, in its greateft depravity and
corruption, never produced fuch a villain as could
be capable of entertaining it. But what makes this
difference ? When our paflive feelings are almoft al-
ways fo fordid and fo felfifh, how comes it that our
active principles mould often be fo generous and fo
noble ? When we are always fo much more deeply
affected by whatever concerns ourfelves, than by-
whatever concerns other men - what is it which
prompts the generous, upon all occafions, and the
mean upon many, to facrifice their own intereits to
the greater interefls of others ? It is not the foft power
of humanity, it is not that feeble fpark of benevo-
lence which Nature has lighted up in the human
heart, that is thus capable of counteracting the
ftrongeft impulfes of felf-iove. It is a ftrono-er
power, a more forcible motive, which exerts itielf
upon fuch occafions. It is reaion, principle, confci-
ence, the inhabitant of the breaft, the man within
the great judge and arbiter of our conduct. It is he
who, whenever we are about to act fo as to affect the
happinefs of others, calls to us with a voice capable
of aftonifhing the moll prefumptuous of our paflions,
that we are but one of the multitude, in no refpect
better than any other in it ; and that when we prefer
ourfelves fo fhamefully and fo blindly to others, we
become the proper objects of refentment, abhor-
rence, and execration. It is from him only that we
learn the real littlenefs of ourfelves, and of whatever
relates to ourfelves, and the natural mifreprefentati-
onsof felf-love can be corrected only by the eye of
O this
194 Of rfje Sense Tart III.
this impartial fpectator. It is he who mows us
the propriety of generofity and the deformity of in-
justice ; the propriety of refigning the greatefl in-
terefts of our own, for the yet greater interefts
of others, and the deformity of doing the
fmalleft injury to another, in order to obtain the
greatefl benefit to ourfelves. It is not the love of
our neighbour, it is not the love of mankind, which
upon many occafions prompts us to the practice of
thofe divine virtues. It is a ftronger love, a more
powerful affection which generally takes place upon
fuch occafions, the love of what is honourable and
noble, of the grandeur, and dignity, and Superiority
of our own characters.
When the happinefs or mifery of others depends
in any refpect upon our conduct, we dare not, as
felf-love would fuggeft to us, prefer any little intereft
of our own, to the"yet greater intereft of our neigh-
bour. We feel that we mould become the proper ob-
jects of the refentment and indignation of our bre-
thren, and the fenfe of the impropriety of this affec-
tion is fupported and enlivened by the yet ftronger
fenfe of the demerit of the action, which it would in
this cafe give occafion to. But when the happinefs
or mifery of others in no refpect depends upon our
conduct, when our own interefts are altogether fepa-
rated and detached from theirs, fo that there is nei-
ther connexion nor competition between them, as
the fenfe of demerit does not in this cafe interpofe,
the mere fenfe of impropriety is feldom able to re-
ftrain us from abandoning ourfelves to our natural
anxiety about our own affairs, and to our natural in-
difference about thofe of other men. The moil vul-
gar education teaches us to act, upon all important
occafions, with iome fort of impartiality between
ourfelves
Chap. 2. of D u t y.
ourfelves and others, and even the ordinary com
merce of the world is capable of adjufting our active
principles to fome degree of propriety. But it is
the mod artificial and refined education only, which
pretends to correct the inequalities of our paffive
feehngs, and we mult for this purpofe have recourfe
to the fevereft, as well as to the profoundeft philofo-
phy.
Two different fets of phi lofophers have attempted
to teach us this harden: of all the lefTons of morality.
One fet have laboured to increafe our fenfibiiityto
the interefts of others • another to diminim that to
our own. The firft would have us feel for others as
we naturally feel for ourfelves. The fecond would
have us feel for ourfelves, as we naturally feel for
others.
The full are thofe melancholy moralifts, who are
perpetually reproaching us with our happinefs, while
fo many of our brethren are in mifery, * who regard
as impious the natural joy of profperity, which does
not think of the many wretches that are at every in-
ftant labouring under all forts of calamities, in the
languor of poverty, in the agony of difeafe, in the
horrors of death, under the infults and oppreilion of
their enemies. Commiferation for thofe miferies
which we never faw, which we never heard of, but
which we may be allured are at all times infeiting
fuch numbers of our fellow-creatures, ought, they
think, to damp the pleafures of the fortunate, and to
render a certain melancholy dejection habitual to all
men. But firft of all, this extreme fyrnpathy with
O 2 misfortunes,
* See Thomfon's Seafons, Winter :
" Ah ! little think the gay licentious proud," &c.
See al fo Pafcal.
196 Of the Sens i Part III.
misfortunes, which we know nothing about, feems
altogether abfurd and unreafonable. Take the whole
earth at an average, for one man who iiifTers pain or
mifery, you will find twenty in profperity and joy,
or at lead in tolerable circumftances. No reafon,
furely, can be afligned why we mould rather weep
with the one than rejoice with the twenty. This
artificial commiferation, befides, is not only abfurd,
but feems altogether unattainable ; and thofe who
afTeft this character have commonly nothing but a
certain hypocritical fadnefs, which, without reaching
the heart, ferves only to render the countenance and
converfation impertinently difmal and difagreeabie.
And laft of all, this difpofition of mind, though it
could be attained, would be perfectly ufelefs, and
could ferve no other purpofe than to render miferabte
the perfon who was pofTefled of it. Whatever in-
tereft we take in the fortune of thofe with whom
we have no acquaintance or connexion, and who
are placed altogether out of the fphere of our activity,
can produce only anxiety to ourfelves, without any
manner of advantage to them. To what purpofe
mould we trouble ourfelves about the world in the
moon ? All men, even thofe at the greatefl diftance,
are no doubt entitled to our good wifhes, and our
good wifhes we naturally give them. But if, not-
withstanding, they mould be unfortunate, to give
ourfelves any anxiety upon that account, feems to
be no part of our duty. That we mould be but
little interefted, therefore, in the fortune of thofe
whom we can neither ferve nor hurt, and who are in
every refpedt, fo very remote from us, feems wifely
ordered by nature ; and if it were poffible to
alter in this refpe& the original conftitutiori of our
frame, we could yet gain nothing by the change.
Among
Chap. 2. of D U T Y. . ipy
Among the moralifts who endeavour to correct
the natural inequality of our paflive feelings by di-
mini filing our fenfibility to what peculiarly concerns
ourfelves, we may count all the ancient fedts of phi-
lofophers, but particularly the ancient ftoics. Man,
according to the ftoics, ought to regard himfelf, not
as iomething feparated and detached, but as a citi-
zen of the world, a member of the vaft common-
wealth of nature. To the intereft of this great com-
munity, he ought at all times to be willing that his
own little intereil mould be facrificed. Whatever
concerns himfelf, ought to affect him no more than
whatever concerns any other equally important part
of this immenfe fyftem. We mould view ourfelves,
not in the light in which our own felfifh paflions are
apt to place us, but in the light in which any other
citizen of the world would view us. What befalls
ourfelves we iliould regard as what befalls our neigh-
bour, or, what comes to the fame thing, as our
neighbour regards what befalls us. " When our
" neighbour," fays Epidtetus, " lofes his wife or his
" fon, there is nobody who is not fenfible that this is a
" human calamity, a natural event altogether, accord-
91 ing to the ordinary courfe of things : but when
" the fame thing happens to ourfelves, then we cry
tc out, as if we had fuffered the moft dreadful misfor-
M tune. We ought, however, to remember how
" we were affedted when this accident happened to
" another, and fuch as we were in his cafe, fuch
" ought we to be in our own." How diffi-
cult foever it may be to attain this fupreme degree
of magnanimity and firmnefs, it is by no means ei-
ther abfurd or ufelefs to attempt it. Though few
men have the floical idea of what this perfect pro-
priety requires, yet all men endeavour in fome mea-
O 3 toe
198 Of the Sense Part ill,
lure to command themfelves, and to bring down
their feliifh paflions to fomething which their neigh-
bour can go along with. But this can never be done
Co effectually as by viewing whatever befalls them-
felves in the light in which their neighbours are apt
to view it. The floical philofophy, in this refpect,
does little more than unfold our natural ideas of
perfection. There is nothing abfurd or improper,
therefore, in aiming at this perfect felf-command.
Neither would the attainment of it be ufelefs, but,
on the contrary, the moft advantageous of all things,
as eitablifning our happinefs upon the moft folid and
fecure foundation, a firm confidence in that wifdom
and juftice which governs the world, and an entire
refignation of ourfelves, and of whatever relates to
ourfelves to the all- wife difpofal of this ruling prin-
ciple in nature.
It fcarce ever happens, however, that we are ca-
pable of adj lifting our paflive feelings to this perfect
propriety. We indulge ourfelves, and even the
world indulges us, in fome degree of irregularity in
this refpect. Though we mould be too much af-
fected by what concerns ourfelves, and too little by
what concerns other men, ) et, if we always act with
impartiality between ourfelves and others, if we ne-
ver actually facrifice any great intereft of others, to
any little intereft of our own, we are eafily pardon-
ed: and it were well, if, upon all occafions, thofe
who defire to do their duty were capable of main-
taining even this degree of impartiality between
themfelves and others. But this is Very far from
being the cafe. Even in good men, the judge with-
in is often in danger of being corrupted by the vio-
lence and injustice of their feltifti paflions, and is
often
Chap. 2. of D u t y. 199
often induced to make a report very different from
what the real circumftances of the cafe are capable
of authorizing.
There are two different occafions, upon which we
examine our own conduct, and endeavour to view
it in the light in which the impartial Spectator would
view it. Firft, when we are about to act ; and, Se-
condly, after we have acted. Our views are very
partial in both cafes, but they are mofl fo, when it
is of mofl importance that they fhould be otherwife.
When we are about to act, the eagernefs of paf-
fion will feldom allow us to confider what we are
doing with the candour of an indifferent perfon.
The violent emotions which at that time agitate us,
diicolour our views of things, even when we are en-
deavouring to place ourfelves in the fjtuation of ano-
ther, and to regard the objects that intereft us, in
the light in which they will naturally appear to him.
The fury of our own paflions conftantly galls us
back to our own place, where every thing appears
magnified and mifreprefented by felf-love. Of the
manner in which thofe objects would appear to an-
other, of the view which he would take of them, we
can obtain, if I may fay fo, but inflantaneous
glimpfes, which vanifh in a moment, and which
even while they laft are not altogether juft. We
cannot even for that moment divefl ourfelves entire-
ly of the heat and keennefs with which our peculiar
fituation infpires us, nor confider what we are about
to do with the complete impartiality of an equitable
judge. The paflions, upon this account, as father
Jvlalebranche fays, all juftify themfelves, and feem
O 4 reasonable,
200 Of the S e n s e Part III.
reafonable, and proportioned to their objects, as
long as we continue to feel them.
When the action is over, indeed, and the pafiions
which prompted it have fubfided, we can enter more
coolly into fentiments of the indifferent fpectator.
What before interelted us, is now become almoit as
indifferent to us as it always was to him, and we can
now examine our own condu& with his candour and
impartiality. But our judgments now are of little
importance, compared to what they were before;
and when they are molt feverely impartial, can com-
monly produce nothing but vain regret, and un-
availing repentance, without fecuring us, from the
like errors for the future. It is feidom, however,
that they are quite candid even in this cafe. The
opinion which we entertain of our own character,
depends entirely on our judgment concerning our
paft conduct. It is lb difagreeable to think ill of
ourfelves, that we often purpofely turn away our
view from thofe circumflances which might render
that judgment unfavourable. He is a bold furgeon,
they fay, whofe hand does not tremble when he
performs an operation upon his own perfon -9 and he
is often equally bold who does not hefitate to pull
off the myflerious veil of felf-delufion, which covers
from his view the deformities of his own conduct.
Rather than lee our own behaviour under fo difagree-
able an afpect, we too often, fooliinly and weakly,
endeavour to exafperate anew thofe unjurt pailions
which had formerly milled us ; we endeavour by ar-
tifice to awaken our old hatreds, and irritate afrefh
our almoil forgotten refentments ; we even exert
ourfelves for this miferable purpofe, and thus per-
fevere in injuftice, merely becaufe we once were tin-
juft,
Chap. 2. of D u t y. 201
juft, and becaufe we are afhamed and afraid to fee
that we were fo.
So partial are the views of mankind with regard
to the propriety of their own conduct, both at the
time of action and after it • and fo difficult is it for
them to view it in the light in which any indifferent
fpectator would confider it. But if it was by a pe-
culiar faculty, fuch as the moral fenfe is fuppofed to
be, that they judged of their own conduct, if they
were endued with a particular power of perception,
which diftinguifhed the beauty or deformity of paf-
fions and affections ; as their own paffions would be
more immediately expofed to the view of this fa-
culty, it would judge with more accuracy concern-
ing them, than concerning thofe of other men, of
which it had only a more diflant profpect.
This felf-deceit, this fatal weaknefs of mankind,
is the fource of half the diforders of human life. If
we faw ourfelves in the light in which others fee us,
or in which they would fee us if they knew all, a re-
formation would generally be unavoidable. We
could not otherwife endure the fight.
Nature, however, has not left this weaknefs, which
is of fo much importance, altogether without a re-
medy • nor has fhe abandoned us entirely to the de-
lufions of felf-love. Our continual obfervations up-
on the conduct of others, infenfibly lead us to form
to ourfelves certain general rules concerning what is
fit and proper either to be done or to be avoided,
Some of their actions mock all our natural fenti-
ments. We hear every body about us exprefs the
like deteftation againft them. This flill further con-
firms, and even exafperates our natural {en(e of
their
202 Of the S e n s e Part Ilf.
their deformity. It fatisfies us that we view them
in the proper light, when we fee other people view
them in the fame light. We refolve never to be
guilty of the like, nor ever, upon any account, to
render ourfelves in this manner the objects of uni^-
verfal difapprobation We thus naturally lay down
to ourfelves a general rule, that all fuch actions are
to be avoided, as tending to render us odious, con-
temptible, or punifhable, the objects of all thofe
fentiments for which we have the grcatefl dread and
averfion. Other actions, on the contrary, call forth
our approbation, and we hear every body around us
exprefs the fame favourable opinion concerning
them. Every body is eager to honour and reward
them. They excite all thofe fentiments for which
we have by nature the flrongefl defire $ the love, the
gratitude, the admiration of mankind. We become
ambitious of performing the like ; and thus naturally
lay down to ourfelves a rule of another kind, that
every opportunity of acting in this manner is care-?
fully to be fought after.
It is thus that the general rules of morality are
formed. They are ultimately founded upon expe-
rience of what, in particular inftances, our moral fa-
culties, our natural fenfe of merit and propriety,
approve, or difapprove of. We do not originally
approve or condemn particular actions •, becaufe, up-
on examination, they appear to be agreeable or in-
confiftent with a certain general rule. The general
rule, on the contrary, is formed by finding from ex-
perience, that all actions of a certain kind, or cir-
cumftanced in a certain manner, are approved or
difapproved of. To the man who firft faw an in-
human murder, committed from avarice, envy, or
unjuft
Chap. 2. of D u t y. 203
imjuft refentment, and upon one too that loved and
trufted the murderer, who beheld' the laft agonies of
the dying perfon, who heard him, with his expiring
breath, complain more of the perfidy and ingrati-
tude of his falfe friend, than of the violence which
had been done to him, there could be no occafion,
in order to conceive how horrible fuch an action was,
that he mould reflect, that one of the moft facred
rules of conduct was what prohibited the taking
away the life of an innocent perfon, that this was a
plain violation of that rule, and confequently a very
blamable a&ion. His deteftation of this crime, it
is evident, would arife inilantaneouily and antece-
dent to his having formed to himfelf any fuch ge-
neral rule. The general rule, on the contrary,
which he might afterwards form, would be founded
upon the deteflation which he felt neceifarily arife in
his own breaft, at the thought of this, and every
other particular action of the fame kind.
When we read in hillory or romance, the account
of actions either of generofity or of bafenefs, the ad-
miration which we conceive for the one, and the
contempt which we feel for the other, neither
of them arife from reflecting that there are certain
general rules which declare all actions of the one
kind admirable, and all actions of the other con-
temptible. Thofe general rules, on the contrary,
are all formed from the experience we have had of
the effects which actions of all different kinds natu-
rally produce upon us.
An amiable action, a refpectable adion, an hor-
rid action, are all of them actions which naturally
excite the love, the refpect, or the horror of the
fpectator.
204 Of the Sense Part III.
fpectator, for the perfon who performs them. The
general rules which determine what actions are,
and what are not, the objects of each of thofe fenti-
ments, can be formed no other way than by observ-
ing what actions actually and in fact excite them.
When thefe general rules, indeed, have been
formed, when they are univerfally acknowledged
and eflablifhed, by the concurring fentiments of
mankind, we frequently appeal to them as to the
ftandards of judgment, in debating concerning the
degree of praife or blame that is due to certain ac-
tions of a complicated and dubious nature. They
are upon thefe occafions commonly cited as the ulti-
mate foundations of what is juft and unjufl in hu-
man conduct ; and this circumitance feems to have
milled feveral very eminent authors, to draw up
their fyflems in fuch a manner, as if they had fup-
pofed that the original judgments of mankind with
regard to right and wrong, were formed like the
decifions of a court of judicatory, by confidering
firfl the general rule, and then, fecondly, whether
the particular action under confideration fell properly
within its comprehenfion.
Thofe general rules of conduct, when they have
been fixed in our mind by habitual reflection, are of
great ufe in correcting mifreprefentations of felf-love
concerning what is fit and proper to be done in our
particular fituation. The man of furious refentment,
if he was to liflen to the dictates of that paflion,
would perhaps regard the death of his enemy, as but
a fmall compenfation for the wrong, he imagines,
he has recehed ; which, however, may be no more
than a very flight provocation. But his obfervations
upon
Chap. z. , of D u t y. 205
upon the conduct of others, have taught him how
horrible all fuch fanguinary revenges appear. Un~
lefs his education has been very lingular, he has laid
it down to himfelf as an inviolable rule, to abftain
from them upon all occafions. This rule preferves
its .authority with him, and renders him incapable of
being guilty of fuch a violence. Yet the fury of his
own temper may be fuch, that had this been the
mil time in which he confidered fuch an action, he
would undoubtedly have determined it to be quite
juft and proper, and what every impartial fpectator
would approve of. But that reverence for the rule
which paft experience has impreffed upon him, checks
the impetuofity of his paflion, and helps him to cor-
rect the too partial views which felf-love might
other wife fugged, of what was proper to be done
in his fituation. If he fhould allow himfelf to be
fo far tranfported by paflion as to violate this rule,
yet even in this cafe, he cannot throw off altogether
the awe and refpect with which he has been accuf-
tomed to regard it. At the very time of acting, at
the moment in which paflion mounts the higheft, he
hefitates and trembles at the thought of what he is
about to do : he is fecretly confcious to himfelf that
he is breaking through thofe meafures of conduct,
which, in all his cool hours, he had refolved never
to infringe, which he had never feen infringed by
others without the higheft difapprobation, and of
which the infringement, his own mind forebodes,
mult foon render him the object of the fame dif-
agreeable fentiments. Before he can take the laft
fatal refolution, he is tormented with all the agonies
of doubt and uncertainty ; he is terrified at the
thought of violating fo facred a rule, and at the fame
time is urged and goaded on by the fury of his de-
fires
206 Of the S e n s e Fart III.
fires to violate it. He changes his purpofe every
moment ; fometimes he refolves to adhere to his
principle, and not indulge a paflion which may cor-
rupt the remaining part of his life with the horrors of
fhame and repentance; and a momentary calm
takes pofleflion of his breaft, from the profpeft of
that fecurity and tranquillity which he will enjoy
when he thus determines not to expofe himfelf to
the hazard of a contrary conduct. But immediately
the paffion roufes anew, and with frefh fury drives
him on to commit what he had the inflant before re-
folved to abftain from. Wearied and diftradted
with thcfe continual irrefolutions, he at length,
from a fort of defpair, makes the lafl fatal and ir-
recoverable ftep ; but with that terror and amaze-
ment with which one flying from an enemy, throws
himfelf over a precipice, where he is fure of meet-
ing with more certain deftruclion than from any
thing that purfues him from behind. Such are his
fentiments even at the time of acting ; though he is
then, no doubt, lefs fenfible of the impropriety of
his own conduct than afterwards, when his painon
being gratified and palled, he begins to view what
he has done in the light in which others are apt to
view it ; and actually feels, what he had only fore-
feen very imperfectly before, the flings of remorfe
and repentance begin to agitate and torment him.
C H A P.
Chap. 3, of D u 1 y. 207
CHAP. III.
Of the influence and authority of the general rules of mo-
rality, and that they are juftly regarded as the laws of
the Deity.
1 HE regard to thofe general rules of conduct,
is what is properly called a tenfe of duty, a prin-
ciple of the greatefl confequence in human life, and
the only principle by which the bulk of mankind are
capable of directing their adions. Many men be-
have very decently, and through the whole of their
lives avoid any conliderable degree of blame, who
yet, perhaps, never felt the fentiment upon the
propriety of which we found our approbation of
their conduct, but acted merely from a regard to
what they faw were the eftablifhed rules of beha-
viour. The man who has received great benefits
from another perfon, may, by the natural coldnefs of
his temper, feel but a very fmall degree of the fenti-
ment of gratitude. If he has been virtuoufly educated,
however, he will often have been made to obferve
how odious thofe actions appear which denote a
want of this fentiment, and how amiable the con-
trary. Tho' his heart therefore is not warmed with
any grateful affection, he will ftrive to act as if it
was, and will endeavour to pay all thofe regards
and attentions to his patron which the livelieft gra-
titude
208 Of the Sense Part III.
titude could fuggeft. He will vifit him regularly ;
he will behave to him refpedtfully ; he will never
talk of him but with expreilions of the higheft ef-
teem, and of the many obligations which he owes
to him. And what is more, he will carefully em-
brace every opportunity of making a proper return
for pad fervices. He may do all this too without
any hypocrify or blamable diiTimulation, without
any felfiiTi intention of obtaining new favours, and
without any defign of impofing either upon his be-
nefactor or the public. The motive of his actions
may be no other than a reverence for the. edabli (Tied
rule of duty, a ferious and earned defire of acting,
in every refpecl, according to the law of gratitude.
A wife, in the fame manner, may iometimes not
feel that tender regard for her hufband which is fuit-
able to the relation that fubfifls between them. If
ihe has been virtuoufly educated, however, ihe will
endeavour to adt as if fhe felt it, to be careful, of-
ficious, faithful, aid fmcere, and to be deficient in
none of thofe attentions which the fentiment of con-
jugal affection could have prompted her to perform.
Such a friend, and fuch a wife, are neither of them,
undoubtedly, the very bell of their kinds ^ and
though both of them may have the mod ferious and
earned defire to fulfil every part of their duty, yet
they will fail in many nice and delicate regards,
they will mifs many opportunities of obliging, which
they could never have overlooked if they had pof-
felTed the fentiment that is proper to their fituation.
Though not the very fird of their kinds, however,
they are perhaps the fecond \ and if the regard to
the general rules of conduct has been very drongly
impreflfed upon them, neither of them will fail in
any eflential part of their duty. None but thofe of
the
Chap. g. of Duty. 209
the happieft mould are capable of iuiting, with ex-
act juftnefs, their fentiments and behaviour to the
fmalieft difference of fituation, and of acting upon
all occafions with the moll: delicate and accurate
propriety. The coarfe clay of which the bulk of
mankind are formed, cannot be wrought up to filch
perfection. There is fcarce any man, however,
who by difcipline, education, and example, may not
be imprefled with a regard to general rules, as to act
upon almoft every occafion with toleiable decency,
and through the whole of his life avoid any confi-
derable degree of blame.
Without this facred regard to general rules, there
is no man whofe conduct can be much depended
upon. It is this which conftitutes the mofl eiiential
difference between a man of principle and honour
and a worthlefs fellow. The one adheres, on all
occafions, fleadily and refolutely to his maxims,
and prefer ves through the whole of his life one even
tenour of conduct. The other, acts varioufly and
accidentally, as humujr, inclination, or intereft
chance to be uppermoft. Nay, fuch are the ine-
qualities of humour to which all men are fubject?
that without this principle, the man who, in his cool
hours, had the mofl delicate fenfibility to the pro-
priety of conduct, might often be led to act ab-
furdly upon the moft frivolous occafions, and when
it v/as fcarce poflible to affign any ferious motive for
his behaviour in this manner. Your friend makes
you a vifit when you happen to be in a humour
which makes it difagreeable to receive him : in your
prefent mood this civility is very apt to appear an
impertinent intrufion ; and if you v/ereto give way
to .the views of things which at this time occur,
p though
21o Of 'the Sense Part III.
though civil in your temper, you would behave to
him with coldnefs and contempt. What renders
you incapable of fuch a rudenefs, is nothing but a
regard to the general rules of civility and hofpitality,
which prohibit it. That habitual reverence which
your former experience has taught you for thefe,
enables you to ad, upon all fuch occafions, with
nearly equal propriety, and hinders thofe inequa-
lities of temper, to which all men are fubject, from
influencing your conduct in any very fenjible degree.
But if without regard to thefe general rules, even
the duties of politenefs, which are fo eafily obferv-
ed, and which can fcarce have any ferious motive
to violate, would yet be fo frequently violated,
what would become of the duties of juftice, of
truth, of chaftity, of fidelity, which it is often fo
difficult to obferve, and which there may be fo ma-
ny flrong motives to violate ? But upon the toler-
able obfervance of thefe duties, depends the very
exiftence of human fociety, which would crumble
into nothing if mankind were not generally impref-
fed with a reverence for thofe important rules of
conduct.
This reverence is flill further enhanced by an opi-
nion which is firfl imprefled by nature, and after-
wards confirmed by feafoning and philofophy, that
. thofe important rules of morality, are the commands
and laws of the Deity, who will finally reward the
obedient, and punifh the tranfgreiiors of their duty.
This opinion or apprehenfion, I fay* feems Brit to
be imprefled by nature. Men are naturally led to
afcribe to thofe myfterious beings, whatever they
are, which happen^ in any countrv, to be the ob-
jects
Chap. 3. of D u t y. 211
jecls of religious fear, all their own fentiments and
paflions. They have no other, they can conceive
no other to aferibe to them. Thofe unknown in-
telligences which they imagine but fee not, mult
neceflarily be formed with fome fort of refemblance
to thofe intelligences of which they have experience.
During the ignorance and darknefs of pagan fuper-
ftition, mankind feem to have formed the ideas of
their divinities with fo little delicacy, that they af-
cribed to them, indifcriminately, all the paflions of
human nature, thofe not excepted which do the
leaft honour to our fpecies, fuch as luft, hunger,
avarice, envy, revenge. They could not fail there-
fore, to aferibe to thofe beings, for the excellence
of whofe nature they ltill conceived the higheft ad-
miration, thofe fentiments and qualities which are
the great ornaments of humanity, and which feem
to raife it to a refemblance of divine perfection, the
love of virtue and beneficence, and the abhorrence
of vice and injuftice. The man who was injured,
called upon Jupiter to be witnefs of the wrong that
was done to him, and could not doubt, but that di-
vine being would behold it with the fame indigna-
tion which would animate the meaneft of man-
kind, who looked on when injuftice was committed,
The man who did the injury, felt himfelf to be
the proper object of deteftation and refentment of
mankind ; and his natural fears led him to impute
the fame fentiments to thofe awful beings, whofe
prefence he could not avoid, and whofe power he
could not refift. Thefe natural hopes and fears,
and fufpicions, were propagated by fympathy, and
confirmed by education ; and the gods were univer-
fally reprefented and believed to be the rewarders
of humanity and mercy, and the avengers of per-
P2 fidy
2i2 Of the S e n s e Part III.
fidy and injuftice. And thus religion, even in its
rudeft form, gave a fan&ion to the rules of mora-
lity, long before the age of artificial reafoning and
philofophy. That the terrors of religion mould
thus enforce the natural fenie of duty, was of too
much importance to the happinefs of mankind, for
nature to leave it dependent upon the flownefs and
uncertainty of philosophical refearches.
Thefe refearches, however, when they came to
take place, confirmed thofe original anticipations of
nature Upon whatever we fuppofe that our moral
faculties are founded, whether upon a certain modi-
fication of reafon, ' upon an original inflinct, called a
moral fenfe, or upon fome other principle of our
nature, it cannot be doubted, that they were given
us for the direction of our conduct in this life. They
carry along with them the molt evident badges of
this authority, which denote that they were fet up
within us to be the fupreme arbiters of all our actions,
to fuperintend all our fenfes, paflions, and appetites,
and to judge how far each of them was either to be
indulged or reflrained. Our moral faculties are by no
means, as fome have pretended, upon a level in this
refpecl with the other faculties and appetites of our
nature, endowed with no more right to reftrain thefe
lafl, than thefe lafl are to reflrain them. No other
faculty or principle of action judges of any other.
Love does not judge of refentment, nor refentment
of love. Thofe two paflions may be oppofite to one
another, but cannot, with any propriety, be faid to
approve or difapprove of one another. But it is the
peculiar office of thofe faculties now under our con-
federation to judge, to beflow cenfure or applaufe
upon all the other principles of our nature. They
may
Chap. 3. of D u t y. 213
may be confidered as a fort of fenfes of which thofe
principles are the objects. Every fenfe is fupreme
over its own obje&s. There is no appeal from the
eye with regard to the beauty of colours, nor from
the ear with regard to the harmony of founds, nor
from the tafte with regard to the agreeableneis of
flavours. Each of thofe fenfes judges in the laft
refort of its own objecls. Whatever gratifies the
tafte is fweet, whatever pleafes the eye is beautiful,
whatever fooths the ear is harmonious. The very
eflence of each of thofe qualities confifts in being
fitted to pleafe the fenfe to which it is addreffed. It
belongs to our moral faculties, in the fame manner
to determine when the ear ought to be foot hed, when
the eye ought to be indulged, when the tafte ought
to be gratified, when and how far every other prin-
ciple of our nature ought to be indulged or reftrain-
ed. What is agreeable to our moral faculties, is fit,
and right, and proper to be done ; the contrary
wrong, unfit, and improper. The fentiments which
they approve of, are graceful and unbecoming. The
very words, right, wrong, fit, improper, graceful,
unbecoming, mean only what pleafes or difpleafes
thofe faculties.
Since thefe, therefore, were plainly intended to be
the governing principles of human nature, the rules
which they prefcribe, are to be regarded as the com-
mands and laws of the Deity, promulgated by thofe
vicegerents which he has thus fet up within us. All
general rules are commonly denominated laws : thus
the general rules which bodies obferve in the com-
munication of motion, are called the laws of motion.
But thofe general rules which our moral faculties
obferve in approving or condemning whatever fenti-
p 3 ment
214 Of the S e x s £ Part III.
ment or action is fubjected to their examination, may
much more juftly be denominated fuch. They have
a much greater refemblance to what are properly call-
ed laws, thofe general rules which the fovereign lays
down to direct the conduct of his fubjects. Like
them they are rules to direct the free actions of men :
they are prefcribed molt furely by a lawful fuperior,
and are attended to in the fanction of rewards and
punifhments. Thofe vicegerents of God within us,
never fail to punifn the violation of them, by the tor-
ments of inward fhame, and felf-condemnation ;
and on the contrary, always reward obedience with
tranquillity of mind, with contentment, and felf-fa-
tisfacYion.
There are innumerable other considerations which
ferve to confirm the fame conclufion. The.happi-
nefs of mankind, as well as of all other rational
creatures, feems to have been the original pur-
pofe intended by the Author of nature, when he
brought them into exigence. No other end feems
worthy of that fupreme wifdom and divine benig-
nity which we necefTarily afcribe to him; and this
opinion, which we are led to by the abltract conlider-
ation of his infinite perfections, is flill more con-
firmed by the examination of the works of nature,
which feem all intended to promote happinefs, and
to guard againft miiery. put by acting according
to the dictates of our moral faculties, we necefTarily
purfue the molt effectual means for promoting the
happinefs of mankind, and may therefore be faid,
in fome fenfe, to co-operate with the Deity, and to
advance as far as in our power the plan of Provi-
dence. By acting otherv, ays, on the contrary, we
feem to obftrudt, In fome meafure, the fcheme
which the Author of nature has eitablifhed for the
happinefs
Chap. 3. of D u t y. 215
happinefs and perfection of the world, and to de-
clare ourfelves, if I may fay fo, in fome rneafure the
enemies of God. Hence we are naturally encou-
raged to hcpe for his extraordinary favour and re-
ward in the one cafe, and to dread his vengeance
and punifhment in the other.
There are befides many other reafons, and many
other natural principles, which all tend to confirm
and inculcate the fame falutary do&rine. If we con-
fider the general rules by which external profperity
and adverfity are commonly diflributed in this life,
we fhall find, that notwithstanding the diforder in
which all things appear to be in this world, yet even
here every vjrtue naturally meets with its proper re-
ward, with the recompenfe which is moft fit to en-
courage and promote it ; and this too fo furely, that
it requires a very extraordinary concurrence of cir-
cumftances entirely to difappoint it. What is the
reward moft proper for encouraging induftry, pru^
dence, and circumfpecYion ? Succefs in every fort
of bufinefs. And is it poilible that in the whole of
life thefe virtues (hould fail of attaining it t Wealth
and external honours are their proper recompenfe,
and the recompenfe which they can feldom fail of
acquiring. What reward is moft proper for pro-
moting the pradrice of truth, juftice, and humanity ?
The confidence, the efteem, and love of thofe we
live with. Humanity does not defire to be great,
but to be beloved. It is not in being rich that truth
and juftice would rejoice, but in being trufted and
believed, recompenfes which thofe virtues muft al-
moft always acquire. By fome very extraordinary
and unlucky circumftance, a good man may come
ro be' iufpe&ed of a crime of which he was altoge-
p 4 ther
ai 6 Of the Sense Part III.
the* Incapable, and upon that account be molt ufi-
iuflly expofed for the remaining part of his life to
the horror and averfion of mankind. By an acci-
dent of this kind he may be laid to iofe his all, not--
w ithilanding his integrity and juftice \ in the fame
manner as a cautious man, not w ithilanding his ut-
mafl circumfpection, may be ruined by an earth-
quake or an inundation. Accidents of the full
kind, however, are perhaps fall more rare, and ftiil
more contrary to the common courfe of things than
thofe of the fecond -, and fill! it remains true, that the
practice of truth, juftice, and humanity, is a certain
and almofl infallible method of acquiring what thofe
virtues chiefly aim at, the confidence and love of
thofe we live with. A perfon may be very eafiiy
mifreprefented with regard to a particular action;
but it is fcarce poflible that he mould be fo with re-
gard to the general tenor of his conduct. An inno-
cent man may be believed to have done wrong :
this, however, will rarely happen. On the contra-
ry, the eilabhfhed opinion of the imtoeence of his
manners, will often lead us to abfolve him where he
has really been in the fault, notwithltanding very
flrcng prefumptions. A knave, in the fame man-
ner may efcape cenfure, or even meet applaufe, for
a particular knavery, in which his conduct is not
under flood. But no man was ever habitually fucb,
without being almoft nniverfaliy known to be fo,
and without being even frequently fufpecled of
guilt, when he was in reality perfectly innocent.
And fo far as vice and virtue can be either punifhed
or rewarded by the. fentiments and opinions of man-
kind, they both, according to the common courfe
of things, meet e^en here with fomething more
than exact and impartial juftice.
But
Chap. 3. rf D u t y. 217
But though the general rules by which profperity
and adverfity are commonly distributed, when con-
fidered in this cool and philosophical light, appear to
be perfectly fuited to the fituation of mankind in
this life, yet the) are by no means fuited to feme of
our natural fentiments. Our natural love and ad-
miration for fome virtues is fuch, that we mould
wifli to bellow on them all forts of honours and re-
wards, even thofe which we mull acknowledge to
be the proper recompenfes of other qualities with
which thofe virtues are not always accompanied.
Our deteftation, on the contrary, for fome vices is
fuch, that we lTioald defire to heap upon them even-
fort of difgrace and di fatter, thofe not excepted
which are the natural confequences of very different
qualities. Magnanimity, generofity, and juftice
command fo high a degree of admiration, that we
defire to fee them crowned with wealth, and power,
and honours of every kind, the natural confequences
of prudence, induflry, and application ; qualities
with which thofe virtues are not infeparably connect-
ed. Fraud, falfehood, brutality, and violence, on
the other hand, excite in every human bread fuch
fcorn and abhorrence, that our indignation roufes to
fee them poflefs thofe advantages which they may in
fome fenfe be faid to have merited, by the diligence
and induflry with which they are fometimes attended.
The induflrious knave cultivates the foil ; the indo-
lent good man leaves it uncultivated. Who ought
to reap the harvefl ? Who ftarve, and who live in
plenty? The natural courfe of things decides it in
favour of the knave : the natural fentiments of man-
kind in favour of the man of virtue. Man judges,
that the good qualities of the one are greatly over-re-
compenfed by thofe advantages which they tend to
procure
2i S Of the S e n s e . Part III.
procure him, and that the omiflions of the other are
by far too feverely punifhed by the diftrefs which
they naturally bring upon him -, and human laws,
the confequences of human fentiments, forfeit the
life and the eftate of the induftrious and cautious
traitor, and reward, by extraordinary recompenfes,
the fidelity and public fpirit of the improvident and
carelefs good citizen. Thus man is by Nature di-
rected to correct, in fome meafure, that cMribution
of things which lhe herfelf would other wife have
made. The rules which for this purpofe fhe prompts
him to follow, are different from thofe which fhe
herfelf obferves. She bellows upon every virtue, and
upon every vice, that precife reward or punifhment
which is bed fitted to encourage the one, or to re-
ftrain the other. She is directed by this fole confede-
ration, and pays little regard to the different degrees
of merit and demerit, which they may feem to poffefs
in the fentiments and paflions of man. Man, on
the contrary, pays regard to this only, and would
endeavour to render the date of every virtue precifely
proportioned to that degree of love and efteem, and
of every vice to that degree of contempt and abhor-
rence, which he himfelf conceives for it. The rules
which lhe follows are fit for her, thofe which he fol-
lows for him : but both are calculated to promote the
fame great end, the order of the world, and the per-
fection and happinefs of human nature.
But though man is thus employed to alter that
diftribution of things which natural events would
make, if left to themfelves ; though, like the gods
of the poets, he is perpetually interpofmg, by extra-
ordinary means, in favour of virtue, and in oppofiti-
on to vice, and like them, endeavours to turn away
the
Chap. 3. of D u t y. 219
the arrow that is aimed at the head of the righteous,
but accelerates the fword of dell: ruction that is lifted
up againft the wicked ; yet he is by no means able
to render the fortune of either quite fui table to his
own fentiments and willies. The natural courfe of
things cannot be entirely controuled by the impo-
tent endeavours of man : the current is too rapid and
too flrong for him to flop it j and though the rules
which direct it appear to have been eftabli fried for
the wifeil and beft purpofes, they fometimes pro-
duce effects which fhock all his natural fentiments.
That a, great combination of men, ftiould prevail
over a fmall one ; that thofe who engage in an en~
terpriie with fore-thought and all neceffary prepara-
tion, mould prevail over fuch as oppofe them with-
out any ; and that every end mould be acquired by
thofe means only which Nature has eftablifhed for
acquiring it, feems to be a rale not only neceffary
and unavoidable in itfelf, but even ufeful and proper
for roufing the induftry and attention of mankind.
Yet, when, in confequence of this rule, violence and
artifice prevail over fincerity and juftice, what indig-
nation does it not excite in the bread of every humane
fpectator ? What forrow and companion for the
lurTerings of the innocent, and what furious refent-
ment againft the fuccefs of the oppreffor ? We are
equally grieved and enraged, at the wrong that is
done, but often find it altogether out of our power
to redrefs it. When we thus defpair of rinding any
force upon earth which can check the triumph of
injuftice, we naturally appeal to Heaven, and hope,
that the great Author of our nature will himfelf exe-
cute hereafter, what all the principles which he has
given us for the direction of our conduct, prompt us
to attempt even here -, that he will complete the
plan
220 Of the S e n s e Part III.
plan which he himfelf has thus taught us to begin ;
and will, in a life to come, render to every one ac-
cording to the works which he has performed in this
world. And thus we are led to the belief of a future
Hate, not only by the weaknelTes, by the hopes and
fears of human nature, but by the nobleft and bell
principles which belong to it, by the love of virtue,
and by the abhorrence of vice and injuflice.
" Dees it fuit the greatnefs of God," fays the elo-
quent and philofophical bifhop of Clermont, with
that pailionate and exaggerating force of imaginati-
on, which feems fometimes to exceed the bounds of
decorum-, cc does it fuit the greatnefs of God, to
*! leave the world which he has created in fo uni-
" verfal a diforder ? To fee the wicked prevail al-
" moil always over the juft ; the innocent dethroned
" by the ufurper 3 the father become the victim of
" the ambition of an unnatural fon ; the hufband
" expiring under the ftroke of a barbarous and failh-
;t lefs wife ? From the height of his greatnefs ought
" God to behold thofe melancholy events as a fan-
ic taflical amufement, without taking any fhare in
6 them ? Becaufe he is great, fhould he be weak,
" or unjuft, or barbarous ? Becaufe men are little,
" ought they to be allowed either to be diilolute
c without punifhment, or virtuous without reward ?
" O God ! if this is the character of your Supreme
,c Being •, if it is you whom we adore under fuch
u dreadful ideas • I can no longer acknowledge you
u for my father, for my protector, for the comforter
"of my forrow, the fupport of my weaknefs, the
*' rewarderof my fidelity. You would then be no
pt more than an indolent and fantaflical tyrant, who
" facrifices mankind toJiis infolent vanitv, and who
«* has.
Chap. 3. of D u t y. 221
" has brought them out of nothing, only to make
" them ferve for the fport of his leifure, and of his
" caprice."
When the general rules which determine the me-
rit and dement of actions, come thus to be regarded,
as the laws of an All-powerful Being, who watches
over our conduct, and who, in a life to come, will
reward the obfervance, and punifh the breach of
them •, they neceiTarily acquire a new facrednefs from
this confideration. That our regard to the will of
the Deity, ought to be the fupreme rule of our con-
duct, can be doubted of by no body who believes
his exiitence. The very thought of difobedience
appears to involve in it the moil (hocking improprie-
ty. How vain, how abfurd would it be for man,
either to oppofe or to neglect the commands that
were laid upon him by Infinite Wifdom, and Infi-
nite Power ! How unnatural, how impioufly un-
grateful not to reverence the precepts that were pre-
fcribed to him by the infinite goodnefs of his Creator,
even though no punifhment was to follow their vio-
lation. The fenfe of propriety too is here well fup-
ported by the ilrongeft motives of felf-intereft.
The idea that, however we may efcape the obferva-
tion of man, or be placed above the reach of human
punifhment, yet we are always acting under the eye,
and expofed to the punifhment of God, the great
avenger of injnflice, is a motive capable of retrain-
ing the molt headftrong palTions, with thofe at lead
who, by conftant reflection, have rendered it fami-
liar to them.
It is in this manner that religion enforces the na-
tural fenfe of duty : and hence it is, that mankind
are
222 Of the StNSE Part III.
are generally dilpofed to place great confidence in
the probity of thofe who feem deeply impreiTed with
religious fentiments. Such perfons, they imagine^
act under an additional tye, befides thofe which re-
gulate the conduct of other men. The regard to the
propriety of action as well as to reputation, the re-
gard to the applaufe of his own breaft, as well as that
of others, are motives which they fuppofe have the
fame influence over the religious man, as over the
man of the world. But the former lies under ano-
ther reftraint, and never acts deliberately but as in
the prefence of that Great Superior who is finally to
recompenfe him according to his deeds. A greater
truft isrepofed, upon this account, in the regularity
and exactnefs of his conduct. And wherever the
natural principles of religion are not corrupted by the
factious and party zeal of fome worthlefs cabal ;
wherever the firft duty which it requires, is to fulfil
all the obligations of morality h wherever men are not
taught to regard frivolous obfervances, as more im-
mediate duties of religion, than acts of juflice and
beneficence ; and to imagine, that by facrifices, and
ceremonies, and vain fupplications, they can bargain
with the Deity, for fraud, and perfidy, and violence,
the world undoubtedly judges right in this refpect,
andjuftly places a double confidence in the rectitude
of the religious man's behaviour.
CHAP.
Chap. 4. of D u t y.
G H A P. IV.
In what cafes the fenfe of duty ought to he the fole princi-
ple of our conducl ; and in what cafes it ought to concur
with other motives.
Kj
.ELIGION affords fuch ftrong motives to
the practice of virtue, and guards us by fuch
powerful reftraints from the temptations of vice,
that many have been led to fuppofe, that religious
principles were the fole laudable motives of action.
We ought neither, they faid, to reward from grati-
tude, nor punifh from refentment ; 'we ought nei-
ther to protect the helplelfnefs of our children, nor
afford fupport to the infirmities of our parents, from
natural affe&ion. All affections for particular objects,
ought to be extinguished in our breafl, and one
great affection take the place of all others, the love
of the Deity, the defire of rendering ourfelves agree-
able to him, and of directing our conduct in every
refpect according to his will. We ought not to be
grateful from gratitude, we ought not to be charita-
ble from humanity, we ought not to be public-fpirited
from the love of our country, nor generous and juft
from the love of mankind. The fole principle and
motive of our conduct in the performance of all thofe
different duties, ought to be a fenfe that God has
com-
224 Of the Sense Fart III.
commanded us to perform them. I lhall not at pre-
fent take time to examine this opinion particularly ;
I (hall only obferve, that we (hould not have expected
to have found it entertained by any feci, who pro-
feffed themfelves of a religion in which, as it is the
firft precept to love the Lord our God with all our
heart, with all our foul, and with all our ftrength, ib
it is the fecond to love our neighbour as we love
ourfelves ; and we love ourfelves furely for our own
fakes, and not merely becaufe we are commanded
to do fo. That the fen(e of duty mould be the fole
principle of our conduct, is no where the precept of
Chriilianily ; but that it (hould be the ruling and
governing one, as philoibphy, and as, indeed, com-
mon fenfe directs. It may be a queftion however,
in what cafes our actions ought to arife chiefly or en-
tirely from a fenfe of duty, or from a regard to gene-
ral rules ; and in what cafes fome other fentiment or
affection ought to concur, and have a principal in-
fluence.
The decifion of this queftion, which cannot,
perhaps, be given with any very great accuracy, will
depend upon two different circumftances ; firft,
upon the natural agreeablenefs or deformity of the
fentiment or affection which would prompt us to any
action independent of .all regard to general rules ;
and fecondly, upon the precifion and exact nefs, or
the loofenefs and inaccuracy of the general rules
themfelves.
I. Firft, I fay, it will depend upon the natural
agreeablenefs or deformity of the affection itfeif,how
far our actions ought to arife from it, or entirely pro-
ceed from a regard t*> the general rule.
All
Chap. 4.. of D u t f.
22 a
All thofe graceful and admired actions, to which
the benevolent affections would prompt us, ouoht
to proceed as much from the paffions themfelves, as
from any regard to the general rules of conduct.
A benefactor thinks himfelf but ill requited, if the"
perfon upon whom he has bellowed his good offices,
repays them merely from a cold fenfe of duty, and
without any affection to his perfon. A hufband is
diffatisfied with the moil obedient wife, when he
imagines her conduct is animated by no other prin-
ciple befides her regard to what the relation fne
Hands in requires. Though a fon mould fail in none
of the offices of filial duty, yet if he wants that af-
fectionate reverence which it fo well becomes him to
feel, the parent may juftly complain of his indiffer-
ence. Nor could a fon be quite fatisfied with a pa-
rent who, though he performed all the duties of his
fituation, had nothing of that fatherly fondnefs
which might have been expected from him. With
regard to all fuch benevolent and focial affections, ic
is agreeable to fee the fenfe of duty employed rather
to reftrain than to enliven them, rather to hinder us
from doing too much, than to prompt us to do what
we ought. It gives us pieafure to fee a father obliged
to check his own fondnefs, a friend obliged to fee
bounds to his natural generohty, a perfon who has
received a benefit, obliged to reftrain the too fan-
guine gratitude of his own temper.
The contrary maxim takes place with regard to the
malevolent and unfocial paffions. We ought to re-
ward from the gratitude and generofity of our own
hearts, without any reluctance, and without being
obliged to reflect how great the propriety of reward-
ing ; but we ought always to punifii with reluctance,
Q and
226 Of the Sense Part III.
and more from a fenfe of the propriety of punifhing
than from any favage difpofition to revenge. No-
thing is more graceful than the behaviour of the
man who appears to refent the greatelt injuries, more
from a fenfe that they deferve, and are the proper
objects of refentment, than from feeling himfelf the
furies of that difagreeable paffion > who, like a judge,
confiders only the general rule, which determines
what vengeance is due for each particular offence j
who, in executing that rule, feels lefs for what him-
felf has fuffered, than what the offender is about to
fuffer •, who, though in wrath remembers mercy, and
is difpofed to interpret the rule in the molt gentle and
favourable manner, and to allow all the alleviations
which the moft candid humanity could, confidently
with good fenfe, admit of.
As the felfifh paflions, according to what has for-
merly been obferved, hold in other refpects a fort of
middle place, between the focial and unfocial affecti-'
ons, fo do they likewife in this. The purfuit of the
objects of private intereft, in all common, little, and
ordinary cafes, ought to flow rather from a regard
to the general rules which prefcribe fuch conduct,
than from any pafiion for the objects themfelves ;
but upon more important and extraordinary occafi-
ons, we fhould be awkward, infipid, and ungrace-
ful, if the objects themfelves did not appear to ani-
mate us with a confiderable degree of paflion. To
be anxious, or to be laying a plot either to gain or
to fave a fingle fhilling, would degrade the moft vul-
gar tradefman in the opinion of all his neighbours.
Let his circumftances be ever fo mean, no attention
to any fuch fmall matters, for the fake of the things
themfelves, mull appear in his conduct. His fitu-
ation
Ghap. 4. f/D'uTV, 227
ation may require the moft fevere ceconomy, and the
mod exact affiduity : but each particular exertion of
that ceconomy and affiduity muft proceed not To
much from a regard for that particular faving or
gain, as for the general rule which to him prefcribes?
with the utmoft rigour, fuch a teriour of conduct.
His parfimony to-day muft not arife from a defire of
the particular three-pence which he will fave by it,
nor his attendance in his fhop from a paffion for the
particular ten-pence which he will acquire by it :
both the one and the other ought to proceed foleiy
from a regard to the general rule, which prefcribes,
with the moft unrelenting feverity, this plan of con-
duct to all perfons in his way of life, In this con-
fifts the difference between the character of a mifer,
and that of a perfon of exact ceconomy and affidui-
ty. The one is anxious about fmall matters for
their own fake j the other attends to them only in
confequence of the fcheme of life which he has
laid down to himfelf.
It is quite otherwife with regard to the more ex-
traordinary and important objects of felf-intereft.
A perfon appears mean-fpirited, who does not pur-
fue thefe with fome degree of earnefthefs for their
Own fake. We mould defpife a prince who was not
anxious about conquering or defending a province,
We mould have little refpect for a private gentleman
who did not exert himfelf to gain an eitate, or even
a cohfiderable office, when lie could acquire them
without either meannefs or injuftice. A member of
parliament who fhews no keenneis about his own
election, is abandoned by his friends, as altogether
unworthy of their attachment, Even a tradefman is
Q^z thought
228 Of the Sense Part III.
thought a poor-fpirited fellow among his neigh-
bours, who does not beftir himfelf to get what they
call an extraordinary job, or fome uncommon ad-
vantage. This fpirit and keennefs conftitutes the
difference between the man of enterprife and the
man of dull regularity. Thofe great objects of
felf-intereft, of which the lofs or acquifition quite
changes the rank of the perfon, are the objects of
the pailion properly called ambition ; a paflion,
which when it keeps within the bounds of prudence
and juftice, is always admired in the world, and has
even fometimes a certain irregular greatnefs, which
dazzles the imagination, when it paffes the limits of
both thefe virtues, and is not only unjuft but extra-
vagant. Hence the general admiration for Heroes
and Conquerors, and even for Statefmen, whofe pro-
jects have been very daring and extenfive, though
altogether devoid of juftice-, fuch as thofe of the
Cardinals of Richlieu and of Retz. The objects of
avarice and ambition differ only in their greatnefs.
A mifer is as furious about a halfpenny, as a man
of ambition about the conqueft of a kingdom.
II. Secondly, I fay, it will depend partly upon
the precifion and exactnefs, or the loofenefs and in-
accuracy of the general rules themfelves, how far
our conduct ought to proceed entirely from a re-
gard to them.
The general rules of almoft all the virtues, the
general rules which determine what are the offices of
prudence, of charity, of generofity, of gratitude,
of friendfhip, are in many refpects loofe and inaccu-
rate, admit of many^exceptions, and require {o many
modifications, that it is fcarce pollible to regulate our
conduct
Chap. 4. of D u t y. 229
conduct entirely by a regard to them. The common
proverbial maxims of prudence, being founded in
univerfal experience, are perhaps the belt general
rules which can be given about it. To affecl, howe-
ver, a very ftridt and literal adherence to them would
evidently be the mod abfurd and ridiculous pedan-
try. ' Of all the virtues I have juft now mentioned,
gratitude is that, perhaps, of which the rules are the
moft precife, and admit of the feweft exceptions.
That as foon as we can we mould make a return of
equal, and if poffible of fuperior value to the fer-
vices we have received, would feem to be a pretty
plain rule, and one which admitted of fcarce any ex-
ceptions. Upon the moft fuperficial examination,
however, this rule will appear to be in the highefl
degree loofe and inaccurate, and to admit of ten
thoufand exceptions. If your benefactor attended
you in your ficknefs, ought you to attend him in
his ? or can you fulfil the obligation of gratitude,
by making a return of a different kind ? If you
ought to attend him, how long ought you to attend
him ? The fame time which he attended you, or
longer, and how much longer ? If your friend lent
you money in your diftrefs, ought you to lend him
money in his ? How much ought you to lend him ?
When ought you to lend him ? Now, or to-morrow,
or next month ? And for how long a time ? It is
evident, that no general rule can be laid down, by
which a precife anfwer can, in all cafes, be given to
any of thefe queftions. The difference between his
character and yours, between his circumftances and
yours, may be fuch, that you may be perfectly
grateful, and juftly refufe to lend him a halfpenny :
and, on the contrary, you may be willing to lend,
or even to give him ten times thefum which he lent
CL 3 y°u>
> 3° Of the S e n s e Part III.
you, and yet juftly be accufed of the blacked ingra-
titude, and of not having fulfilled the hundredth
part of the obligation you lie under. As the duties
of gratitude, however* are perhaps the mod facred
of all thofe which the beneficent virtues prefcribe to
us, fo the general rules which determine them are,
as I faid before, the moft accurate. Thofe which
afcertain the actions required by friendlhip, humani-
ty, hofpitality, generality, are flill more vague and
indeterminate.
There is, however, one virtue of which the gene-
ral rules determine with the greater! exactnefs every
external action which it requires. This virtue is
juftice. The rules of juftice are accurate in the
higher! degree, and admit of no exceptions or modi-
fications, but fuch as may be afcertained as accurate -
]y as the rules themfelves, and which generally, in-
deed, flow from the very fame principles with them.
If I owe a man ten pounds, juftice requires that I
fhould precifely pay him ten pounds, either at the
time agreed upon, or when he demands it. What I
ought to perform, how much I ought to perform,
when and where I ought to perform it, the whole
nature and cjrcumftances of the action prefcribed,
are all of them precifely fixt and determined. Though
it may be awkward and pedantic, therefore, to af-
fect: too flrict an adherence to the common rules of
prudence or generofity, there is no pedantry in flick-
ing faft by the rules of juftice. On the contrary,
the moft facred regard is due to them ; and the acti-
ons which this virtue requires are never fo properly
performed, as when the chief motive for perform-
ing them is a reverential and religious regard to thofe
general rules which require them. In the practice of
the
Chap. 4. of D u t y. 231
the other virtues, our conduct fhouid rather be
directed by a certain idea of propriety, by a certain
tafte for a particular tenour of conduct, than by any
regard to a precife maxim or rule ; and we fhouid
confider the end and foundation of the rule, more
than the rule itfelf. But it is otherwife with regard
to juftice: the man who in that refines the leaft,
and adheres with the mod obftinate ftedfaftnefs, to
the general rules themfelves, is the mod commenda-
ble, and the moft to be depended upon. Though
the end of the rules of juftice be, to hinder us
from hurting our neighbour, it may frequently be a
crime to violate them, though we could pretends
with fome pretext of reafon, that this particular vio-
lation could do no hurt. A man often becomes a
villain the moment he begins even in his own heart,
to chicane in this -manner. The moment he thinks
of departing from the moft (launch and pofitive ad-
herence to what thofe inviolable precepts prefcribe
to him, he is no longer to be trufted, and no man
can fay what degree of guilt he may not arrive at.
The thief imagines he does no evil, when he fteals
from the rich, what he fuppofes they may eafily
want, and what poffibly they may never even
know has been ftolen from them. The adulterer
imagines he does no evil, when he corrupts the
wife of his friend, provided he covers his intrigue
from the fufpicion of the hufband, and does not
difturb the peace of the family. When once we
begin to give way to fuch refinements, there is
no enormity fo grofs of which we may not be capa-
ble.
The rules of juftice may be compared to the rules
of grammar -, the rules of the other virtues to the
Q^4 rules
232 0/ /^ Sense Part HI.
rules which criticks lay down for the attainment of
what is fublirne and elegant in compofition. The
one, are precife, accurate, and indifpen fable. The
other, are loofe, vague, and indeterminate, and
prefent us rather with a general idea of the perfecti-
on we ought to aim at, than afford us any certain
and infallible directions for acquiring it. A man
may learn to write grammatically by rule, with the
moil abfolute infallibility ; and fo, perhaps, he may
be taught to act juftly. But there are no rules whofe
obferyance will infallibly lead us to the attainment
of elegance or fublimity in writing, though there are
fome which may help us, in fome meafure, to cor-
rect and aicertam the vague ideas which we might
otherwife have entertained of thofe perfections : and
there are no rules by the knowledge of which we can
infallibly be taught to act upon all occafions with
prudence, with juft magnanimity, or proper bene-
ficence. Though there are fome which may enable
US to correct and afcertain in feveral refpects, the
imperfect id<jas which we might otherwife have en-
tertained of thofe virtues.
It may fometimes happen, that with the moft fe-
rious and earneft defire of acting fo as to deferve ap-
probation, we may miftake the proper rules of con-
duct, and thus be milled by that very principle
which ought to direct us. It is in vain to expect,
that in this cafe mankind mould entirely approve of
our behaviour, They cannot enter into that abfurd
idea of duty which influenced us, nor go along with
any of the actions which follow from it. There is
fYiil, however, fomething refpectable in the charac-
ter and behaviour ok one who is thus betrayed into
vice,
Chap. 4- of Duty. 232
vice, by a wrong fenfe of duty, or by what is called
an erroneous confcience. How fatally foever he
may be milled by it, he is ftill, with the generous
and humane, more the object of commiieration than
of hatred or refentmenr. They lament the weak-
nefs of human nature, which expofes us to fuch un-
happy delufions, even while we are mod fincerely
labouring after perfection, and endeavouring to act
according to the bed principle which can poflibly
direct us. Falfe notions of religion are almoft the
only caufes which can occafion any very grofs per-
verfion of our natural fentiments in this way ; and
that principle which gives the greater! authority
to the rules of duty, is alone capable of diftorting
our ideas of them in any considerable degree. In
all other cafes common knCe is fufficient to direct
us, if not to the mod exquifite propriety of conduct,
yet to fomething which is not very far from it-, and
provided we are in earned defirous to do well, our
behaviour will always, upon the whole, be praife-
worthy. That to obey the will of the Deity, is the
firft rule of duty, all men are agreed. But con-
cerning the particular commandments which that
will may impofe upon us, they differ widely from
one another. In this, therefore, the greater! mu-
tual forbearance and toleration is due ; and though
o
the defence of fociety requires that crimes mould be
punifhed, from whatever motives they proceed, yer
a good man will always puniili them with reluctance,
when they evidently proceed from falfe notions of
religious duty. He will never feel againft thofe
who commit them that indignation which he feejs
againft other criminals, but will rather regret, and
fometimes even admire their unfortunate firmnefs
and magnanimity, at the very time that he punifhes
their
234- Of the Sense Part III.
their crime. In the tragedy of Mahomet, one of the
fined of Mr. Voltaire's, it is well reprefented, what
ought to be our fentiments for crimes which pro-
ceed from fuch motives. In that tragedy, two
young people of different fexes, of the moft inno-
cent and virtuous difpofitions, and without any
other weaknefs except what endears them the more
to us, a mutual fondnefs for one another, are infti-
gated by the ftrongeft motives of a falfe religion, to
commit a horrid murder, that fhocks all the princi-
ples of human nature : a venerable old man, who
had expreffed the moft tender affection for them
both, for whom, notwithftanding he was the avowed
enemy of their religion, they had both conceived the
higheft reverence and efteem, and who was in reality
their father, though they did not know him to be
fuch, is pointed out to them as a facrirlce which God
had exprefsly required at their hands, and they are
commanded to kill him. While they are about
executing this crime, they are tortured with all the
agonies which can arife from the flruggle between
the idea of the indifpenfablenefs of religious duty on
the one fide, and companion, gratitude, reverence
for the age, and love for the humanity and virtue of
the perfon whom they are going to deftroy, on the
other. The reprefentation of this exhibits one of the
moft interefting, and perhaps the moft inftrudive
fpeclacle that was ever introduced upon any theatre.
The fenfe of duty, however, at laft prevails over
all the amiable weakneffes of human nature. They
execute the crime impoled upon them j but immedi-
ately difcover their error, and the fraud which had
deceived them, and are diftracted with horror, re-
morfe, and refentment. Such as are our fentiments
for the unhappy Seickand Palmira, fuch ought we
to
Chap. 4. of D u t y. 235
to feel for every perfon who is in this manner mifled
by religion, when we are fure that it is really religion
which mideads him, and not the pretence of it,
which is made a cover to fome of the worft of human
paffions.
As a perfon may acl: wrong by following a wrong
fenfe of duty, fo nature may fometimes prevail, and
lead him to acl: right in oppofition to it. We cannot
in this cafe be difpleafed to fee that motive prevail,
which we think.ought to prevail, though the perfon
himfelf is fo weak as to think otherwife. As his
conduct, however, is the erTecl of weaknefs, not
principle, we are far from bellowing upon it any
thing that approaches to complete approbation. A
bigotted Roman Catholick, who, during the maffa-
cre of St. Bartholomew, had been fo overcome by
companion, as to lave fome unhappy proteftants,
whom he thought it his duty to deftroy, would not
feem to be entitled to that high applaufe which we
mould have bellowed upon him, had he exerted the
fame generofity with complete felf-approbation.
We might be pleafed with the humanity of his tem-
per, but we mould (till regard him with a fort of
pity which is altogether inconfiitent with the admi-
ration that is 'due to perfecl virtue. It is the fame
cafe with all the other paffions. We do not dillike
to fee them exert themfelves properly, even when a
falfe notion of duty would direcl the perfon to ref-
train them. A very devout Quaker, who upon be-
ino- (truck upon one cheek, inftead of turning up
the other, mould fo far forget his literal interpreta-
tion of our Saviour's precept, as to beitow fome
good difcipline upon the brute that infuhed him
P would
236 Of the S e n s e, &c. Part III.
would not be difagreeable to us. We fhould laugh
and be diverted with his fpirit, and rather like him
the better for it. But we mould by no means regard
him with that refpect and efleem which would feem
due to one who, upon a like occafion, had acted
properly from a juft fenfe of what was proper to be
done. No action can properly be called virtuous,
which is not accompanied with the fentiment of felf-
approbation.
<H-$»
PART
PART IV.
Of the Effect of Utility upon the
fentiment of approbation.
CONSISTING OF ONE SECTION,
CHAP. I.
Of the beauty which the appearance of Utility be-
ftows upon all the productions of art , and of the
extenjive influence of this fpecies of beauty.
x
HAT utility is one of the principal fources
of beauty has been obferved by every body, who
has confidered with any attention what confti-
tutes the nature of beauty. The conveniency of a
houfe gives pleafure to the fpeclator as well as its
regularity, and he is as much hurt when he obferves
the contrary defect, as when he fees the correfpon-
dent windows of different forms, or the door not
placed exactly in the middle of the building. That
the fitnefs of any fyftem or machine to produce the
end for which it was intended, bellows a certain
propriety and beauty upon the whole, and renders
the very thought and contemplation of it agreeable,
is fo very obvious that nobody has overlooked it.
The
23 8 ¥he Effect Part IV.
The caufe too, why utility pleafes, has of late
been afiigned by an ingenious and agreeable philofo-
pher, who joins the greateft depth of thought to
the greateft elegance of exprefiion, and poiTeifes the
fingular and happy talent of treating the abftrufeft
fubjects not only with the mod perfect perfpicuity,
but with the mod lively eloquence. The utility of
any object, according to him, pleafes the mafter by
perpetually fuggefting to him the pleafure or conve-
niency which it is fitted to promote. Every time he
looks at it, he is put in mind of this pleafure; and
the object in this manner becomes a fource of per-
petual fatisfaction and enjoyment. The fpectator
enters by fympathy into the fentiments of the mafter,
and neceflarily views the object under the fame agree-
able afpect. When we vifu the palaces of the great,
we cannot help conceiving the fatisfaction we fhould
enjoy if we ourfelves were the matters, and were pof-
fefled of fo much artful and ingenioufty contrived
accommodation. A fimilar account is given why
the appearance of inconveniency ihould render any
object difagreeable both to the owner and to the
fpectator.
But that this fitnefs, this happy contrivance of
any production of art, mould often be more valued,
than the very end for which it was intended ; and
that the exact adjuftment of the means for attaining
any conveniency or pleafure, fhould frequently be
more regarded, 'than that very conveniency or plea-
fure, in the attainment of which their whole merit
would feem to confift, has not, fo far as 1 know,
been yet taken notice of by any body. That this
however is very frequently the cafe, may be obferved
in
Chap. I. of U T I L I T y. 229
in a thoufand inftances, both in the mod frivolous
and in the moft important concerns of human life.
When a perfon comes into his chamber, and finds
the chairs all (landing in the middle of the room, he
is angry with his fervant, and rather than fee them
continue in that diforder, perhaps takes the trouble
himfelf to let them all in their places with their backs
to the wall. The whole propriety of this new fitu-
ation arifes from its fuperior conveniency in leaving
the floor free and difengaged. To attain this con-
veniency he voluntarily puts himfelf to more trouble
than all he could have fuffered from the want of it ;
fince nothing was more eafy, than to have fet him-
felf down upon one of them, which is probably
what he does when his labour is over. What he
wanted therefore, it feems, was not fo much this
conveniency, as that arrangement of things which
promotes it. Yet it is this conveniency which ulti-
mately recommends that arrangement, and bellows
upon it the whole of its propriety and beauty.
A watch, in the fame manner, that falls behind
above two minutes in a day, is defpifed by one curi-
ous in watches. He fells it perhaps for a couple of
guineas, and purchafes another at fifty, which will
not lofe above a minute in a fortnight. The fole
ufe of watches however, is to tell us what o'clock
it is, and to hinder us from breaking any engage-
ment, or fuffering any other incpnveniency by our
ignorance in that particular point. But the perfon
fo nice with regard to this machine, will not always
be found either more fcrupuloufiy punctual than
other men, or more anxioufly concerned upon any
other account, to know precifely what time of day
it
240 The Effect Fart IV.
it is. What interefts him is not fo much the attain-
ment of this piece of knowledge, as the perfection
of the machine which ferves to attain it.
How many people ruin themfelves by laying out
money on trinkets of frivolous utility ? What
pleafes thefe lovers of toys is not fo much the utility,
as the aptnefs of the machines which are fitted to
promote it. All their pockets are Huffed with little
conveniencies. They contrive new pockets, un-
known in the clothes of other people, in order to
carry a greater number. They walk about loaded
with a multitude of baubles, in weight and fome-
times in value not inferior to an ordinary Jew's-box,
fome of which may fometimes be of fome little
ufe, but all of which might at all times be very well
fpared, and of which the whole utility is certainly not
worth the fatigue of bearing the burden.
Nor is it only with regard to fuch frivolous ob-
jects that our conduct is influenced by this principle;
it is often the fecret motive of the .mod ferions
and important purfuits of both private and public
life.
The poor man's fon, whom Heaven in its anger
has vifited with ambition, when he begins to look
around him admires the condition of the rich. He
finds the cottage of his father too fmall for his8 ac-
commodation,- and fancies he mould be lodged more
at his eafe in a palace. He is difpleafed with being
obliged to walk a- foot, or to endure the fatigue of
riding on horfeback. He fees his fuperiors carried
about in machines, ^and imagines that in one of
thefe he could travel with lefs inconveniency. He
feels
Chap. I. c/Utilit y. 241
feels himielf naturally indolent, and willing to ferve
himfelf with his own hands as little as pofiible ; and
judges, that a numerous retinue of fervants would
fave him from a great deal of trouble. He thinks
if he had attained all thefe, he would fit dill con-
tentedly, and be quiet, enjoying himielf in the
thought of the happinefs and tranquillity of his fitn-
ation. He is enchanted with the diftant idea of this
felicity. It appears in his fancy like the life of fome
fuperior rank of beings, and in order to arrive at it,
he devotes himielf for ever to the purfuit of wealth
and ereatnels. To obtain the conveniences which
thefe afford, he fubrnits in the firft year, nay in the
firfl month of his application, to more fatigue of
body and more uneafmefs of mind than he could
have fuffered through the whole of his life from the
want of them. He fludies to diftinguifh himfelf in
fome laborious profeffion. With the mofl unre-
lenting indulfry he labours night and day to acquire
ralents fuperior to all his competitors. He endea-
vours next to bring thole talents into public view,
and with equal affiduity folicits every opportunity of
employment. For this purpofe he makes his court
to all mankind •, he ferves thofe whom he hates, and
is obfequious to thofe whom he defpifes. Through
the whole of his life he purfues the idea of a certain
artificial and elegant repofe which he may never ar-
rive at, for which he facrifices a real tranquillity
that is at all times in his power, and which, if in
the extremity of old age he fhould at lad attain to
it, he will find to be in no refpecl preferable to that
humble fecurity and contentment which he had aban-
doned for it. It is then, in the laft dregs of life,
his body wafted with toil and difeafes, his mind
galled and ruffled by the memory of a thou-
R fand
242 The Effect Part IV.
fand injuries and difappointments which he imagines
he has met with from the injuftice of his enemies,
or from the perfidy and ingratitude of his friends,
that he begins at laft to find that wealth and great-
neis are mere trinkets of frivolous utility, no more
adapted for procuring eafe of body or tranquillity
of mind than the tweezer-cafes of the lover of toys ;
and like them too, more troublefome to the perfon
who carries them about with him than all the ad-
vantages they can afford him are commodious.
There is no other real difference between them, ex-
cept that the conveniencies of the one are fomewhat
more obfervable than thofe of the other. The pa-
laces, the gardens, the equipage, the retinue of the
great are objects of which the obvious conveniency
ftrikes every body. They do not require that their
matters fhould point out to us wherein confifts their
utility. Of our own accord we readily enter into it,
and by fympathy enjoy and thereby applaud the fa-
tisfaction which they are fitted to afford him. But
the curiofity of a tooth-pick, of an ear-picker, of a
machine for cutting the nails, or of any other trinket
of the fame kind, is not fo obvious. Their conveni-
ence may perhaps be equally great, but it is not fo
ftriking, and we do not fo readily enter into the fa-
tisfaclion of the man who poffeffes thrm. They are
therefore lefs reaibnable fubjecls of vanity than the
magnificence of wealth and greatnels •> and in this
confifts the fole advantage of thefe laft. They more
effectually gratify that love of diftin&ion fo natural
to man. To one who was to live alone in a defolate
illand it might be a matter of doubt, perhaps, whe-
ther a palace, or a collection of fuch fmall conveni-
encies as are commonly contained in a tweezer-cafe,
would contribute mod to his happinefs and enjoy-
ment.-
Chap. I. ^/Utility. 243
ment. If he is to live in fociety, indeed, there can
be no companion, becatife in this, as in all other
cafes, we conftantly pay more regard to the fenti-
ments of the fpectator, than to thole of the perfon
principally concerned, and confider rather how his
fituation will appear to other people, than how it
will appear to himfelf. If we examine, however,
why the fpeclator diftinguifhes with fuch admiration
the condition of the rich and the great, we fhall find
that it is not fo much upon account of the fuperior
eafe or pleafure which they are fuppoiedto enjoy, as
of the numberlefs artificial and elegant contrivances
for promoting this eafe or pleafure. He does not
even imagine that they are really happier than other
people : but he imagines that they poffefs more
means of happinefs. And ic is the ingenious and
artful adjuftment of thole means to the end for
which they were intended, that is the principal
fource of his admiration. But in the languor of
difeafe, and the wearinefs of old age, the pleafures
jf the vain and empty diftinctions of greatnefs dii-
appear. To one, in this fituation, they are no
longer capable of recommending thole toiiibme pur-
fuits in which they had formerly engaged him. In
his heart he curfes ambition, and vainly regrets the
eafe and the indolence of youth, pleafures which are
fled for ever, and which he has foolifhly facrificed for
what, when he has got it, can afford him no real
fatisfaction. In this miferable afpecl does greatnefs
appear to every man when reduced either by fpleen
or difeafe to obferve with attention his own fituation,
and to confider what it is that is really wanting to
his happinefs. Power and riches appear then to be
what they are, enormous and operofe machines
contrived to produce a few trifling conveniencies to
R 2 the
244 The E f f ect Part IV.
the body, confiding of fprings the mofl nice and de-
licate, which mud be kept in order with the mod
anxious attention, and which in fpite of all our care
are ready every moment to burft into pieces, and to
crufh in their ruins their unfortunate poffeffor. They
are immenie fabrics, which it requires the labour of a
life to raife, which threaten every moment to over-
whelm the perfon that dwells in them, and which
while they ftand, though they may fave him from fome
fmaller inconveniencies, can protect him from none
of the feverer inclemencies of the feafon. They keep
off the fummer fhower, not the winter dorm, but
leave him always as much, and fometimes more ex-
pofed than before, to anxiety, to fear, and to for-
row ; to difeafes, to danger, and to death.
But though this fplenetic philofophy, which in
time of fickneis or low fpirits is familiar to every
man, thus entirely depreciates thofe great objects of
human defire, when in better health and in better
humour, we never fail to regard them under a
more agreeable afpect Our imagination, which
in pain and forrow feems to be , confined and
cooped up within our own perfons, in times of
eafe and profperity expands itfelf to every thing
around us. We are then charmed with the beauty
of thar accommodation which reigns in the palaces
and oeconomy of the great ; and admire how every
thing is adapted to promote their eafe, to prevent
their wants,' to gratify their wifhes, and to amufe
and entertain their mod frivolous defires. If we
confider the real fatisfaction which all thefe things
are capable of affording, by itfelf and feparated
from the beauty off hat arrangement which is fitted
to promote it, it will always appear in the higheft
degree
Chap. I. 0/ U t il i t y 245
degree contemptible and trifling. But we rarely
view it in this abftract and philofophical light. We
naturally confound it in our imagination with the
order, the regular and harmonious movement of the
fyftem, the machine or ceconomy by means of which
it is produced. The pleafures of wealth and great-
nefs, when confidered in this complex view, (hike
the imagination as fomething grand and beautiful and
noble, of which the attainment is well worth all the
toil and and anxiety which we are fo apt to beftow
upon ir.
And it is well that nature impofes upon us in this
manner. It is this deception which roufes and keeps
in continual motion the induftry of mankind. It is
this which fir ft prompted them to cultivate the
ground, to build houfes, to found cities and com-
mon-wealths, and to invent and improve all the
fciences and arts, which ennoble and embellifh hu-
man life ; which have entirely changed the whole
face of the globe, have turned the rude forefts of
nature into agreeable and fertile plains, and made the
tracklefs and barren ocean a new fund of fubfiftence,
and the great high road of communication to the
different nations of the earth. The earth by thefe
labours of mankind has been obliged to redouble her
natural fertility, and to maintain a greater multitude
of inhabitants. It is to no purpofe, that the proud
and unfeeling landlord views his extenfive fields,
and without a thought for the wants of his brethren,
in imagination confumes himfelf the whole harveft
that grows upon them. The homely and vulgar
proverb, that the eye is larger than the belly, never
was more fully verified than with regard to him.
The capacity of his ftomach bears no proportion to
R 3 the
246 ^he Effect Part IV.
the immenfity of his defires, and will receive no
more than that of the meaneft peafant. The reft he
is obliged to diftribute among thofe, who prepare,
in the niceft manner, that little which he himfelf
makes ufe of, among thofe who fit up the palace in
which this little is to be confumed, among thofe
who provide and keep in order all the different bau-
bles and trinkets, which are employed in the cecono-
my of greatnefs; all of whom thus derive from his
luxury and caprice, that fhare of the neceffaries of
life, which they would in vain have expected from
his humanity or his juftice. The produce of the foil
maintains at all times nearly that number of inhabi-
tants, which it is capable of maintaining. The rich
only feted from the heap what is moft precious and
agreeable. They confume little more than the poor,
and in fpite of their natural felfifhnefs and rapacity,
though they mean only their own conveniency,
though the fole end which they propoie from the
labours of all the thoufands whom they employ, be
the g. atification of their own vain and infatiable de-
fires, they divide with the poor the produce of all
their improvements. They are led by an invifible
hand to make nearly the fame diftribution of the ne-
ceffaries of life, which would have been made,
had the earth been divided into equal portions among
all its inhabitants, and thus without intending it,
without knowing it, advance the interefl of the
fociety, and afford means to the multiplication of
the fpecies. When Providence divided the earth
among a few lordly matters, it neither forgot nor
abandoned thofe who feemed to have been left
out in the partition. Thefe lafl too enjoy their
fhare of all that it produces. In what conflitutes
the
Chap. I. of U*t i L i t y. 247
the real happinefs of human Jife, they are in no re-
fpect inferior to thofe who would feem fo much above
them. In eafe of body and peace of mind, all the
different ranks of life are neariy upon a level, and
the beggar, who funs himfelf by the fide of the high-
way,. pofTeffcs that iecurity which kings are fighting
for. /
The fame principle, the fame love of fyltem, the
fame regard to the beauty of order, of art and con-
trivance, frequently ferves to recommend thofe inft i-
tutions, which tend to promote the public welfare.
When a patriot exerts himfelf for the improvement
of any part of the public police, his conduct does
not always arife from pure fympathy with the hap-
pinefs of thofe who are to reap the benefit of it. It
is not commonly from a fellow-feeling with carriers
and waggoners that a public-fpirited man encourages
the mending of high roads. When the legiflature
eftablifhes premiums and other encouragements to
advance the linen or woollen manufactures, its con-
duct feldom proceeds from pure fympathy with the
wearer of cheap or fine cloth, and much lefs from
that with the manufacturer, or merchant. The per-
fection of police, the extenfion of trade and manu-
factures, are noble and magnificent objects. The
contemplation of them pleafes us, and we are inter-
efted in whatever can tend to advance them. They
make part of the great fyftem of government, and
the wheels of the political machine feem to move
with more harmony and eafe by means of them.
We take pleafure in beholding the perfection of fb
beautiful and grand a fyftem, and we are uneafy till
we remove any obftruction that can in the lead dil-
turb or encumber the regularity of its motions. All
R 4 conftitutions
248 The Effect Part IV.
confti'tutions of government, however, are valued
only in proportion, as they tend to promote the hap-
pinefs of thofe who live under them. This is their
fole ufe and end. From a certain fpirit of fyftem,
however, from a certain love of art and contrivance,
we ibmetimes feem to value the means moie than the
end, and to be eager to promote the happinefs of
our fellow- creatures, rather from a view to pcrfedt
and improve a certain beautiful and orderly fyftem,
than from any immediate fenle or feeling of what
they either fufrer or enjoy. There have been men of
the greater! public ipirit, who have fhewn themielves
in other refpects not very fenfible to the feelings of
humanity. And on the contrary, there have been
men of the greateft humanity, who feem to have
been entirely devoid of public fpirit. Every man
may find in the circle of his acquaintance inflances
both of the one kind and the other. Who had ever
lefs humanity, or more public fpirit, than the cele-
brated legiflator of Mufcovy ? The focial and well
natured James the Firfl of Great-Britain feems, on
the contrary, to have had fcarce any paffioi^ either
for the glory, or the intereft of his country. Would
you awaken the induftry of the man, who feems al-
moft dead to ambition, it will often be to no purpofe
to defcribe to him the happinefs of the rich and the
great ; to tell him that they are generally (heltered
from the fun and the rain, that they are feldom hun-
gry, that they are feldom cold, and that they are rare-
ly expofed to wearinefs, or to want of any kind.
The mod eloquent exhortation of this kind wiJl have
little erTe6t upon him. If you would hope to fuc-
ceed, you muft defcribe to him the conveniency and
arrangement of th^ different apartments in their
palaces ; you muft explain to him the propriety of
their
Chap. I. (^/Utility. 249
their equipages, and point out to him the number,
the order, and the different offices of all their atten-
dants. If any thing is capable of making impreffion
upon him, this will. Yet all thefe things tend only
to keep off the fun and the rain, to fave them from
hunger and cold, from want and wearinefs. In the
fame manner, if you would implant public virtue in
the bread of him, who feems heedlefs of the intereft
of his country, it will often be to no purpofe to tell
him, what fuperior advantages the fubjecls of a well-
governed date enjoy j that they are better lodged,
that they are better clothed, that they are better fed.
Thefe confiderations will commonly make no great
impreffion. You will be more likely to perfuade,
if you defcribe the great fyftem of public police
which procures thefe advantages, if you explain the
connexions and dependencies of its feveral parts,
their mutual fubordination to one another, and their
general fubferviency to the happinefs of the fociety ;
if you mow how this fyftem might be introduced into
his own country, what it is that hinders it from tak-
ing place there at prefent, how thofe obftru&ions
might be removed, and all the feveral wheels of the
machine of government be made to move with more
harmony and fmoothnefs, without grating upon one
another, or mutually retarding one another's moti-
ons. It is fcarce poffible that a man mould liften to
a difcourfe of this kind, and not feel himfelf ani-
mated to fome degree of public fpirit. He will, at
lead for the moment, feel fome defire to remove thofe
obftructions, and to put into motion fo beautiful and
fo orderly a machine. Nothing tends fo much to
promote public fpirit as the ftudy of politics, of the
feveral fyftems of civil government, their advantages
and difadvantages, of the constitution of our own
country,
250 The Effect Part IV.
country, its fituation, and intereft with regard to
foreign nations, its commerce, its defence, the difad-
vantages it labours under, the dangers to which it
may be expofed, how to remove the one, and how
to guard againft the other. Upon this account po-
litical difquifitions, if juft and reafonable, and prac-
ticable, are of all the works of fpeculation the moil
ufeful. Even the weakeftand theworflof them are not
altogether without their utility. They ferve at leafl
to animate the public paffions of men, and roufe them
to feek out the means of promoting the happinefs of
the fociety.
CHAP. II.
Of the beauty which the appearance of utility bejlows
upon the characlers and atlions of men •, and how far
the perception of this beauty may be regarded as one
of the original principles of approbation.
T,
H E characters of men, as well as the contri-
vances of art, or the inftitutions of civil govern-
ment, may be fitted either to promote or to difturb
the happinefs both of the individual and of the fo-
ciety. The prudent, the equitable, the active, re-
folute, and fober character promifes profperity and
fatisfadion, boxh to the perfon himfelf and to every
one connected with him. The raih, the infolent,
the flothful, effeminate, and voluptuous, on the
contrary, forebodes ruin to the individual, and mif-
fortune to all who jjave any thing to do with him.
The firft turn of mind has at leaft all the beauty
which
Chap. II. e/ Utility. 251
which can belong to the mod perfect machine that
was ever invented for promoting the mod agreeable
purpofc : and the fecond ail the deformity of the
mod awkward and clumfy contrivance. What in-
ftitution of government could tend lb much to pro-
mote the happinefs of mankind as the general pre-
valence of wifdom and virtue ? All government is
but an imperfect remedy for the deficiency of thefe.
Whatever beauty, therefore, can belong to civil go-
vernment upon account of its utility, mufr in a far
fuperior degree belong to thefe. On the contrary,
what civil policy can be fo ruinous and d-flructive as
the vices of men ? The fatal effects of bad govern-
ment arife from nothing, but that it does not iuffici-
ently guard againft the mifchiefs which human wick-
ed nefs gives occafion to.
This beauty and deformity which characters ap-
pear to derive from their ufefulnefs or inconveniency,
are apt to ftrike, in a peculiar manner, thole who
confider, in an abftract and philofophical light, the
actions and conduct of mankind. When a philofo-
pher goes to examine why humanity is approved of,
or cruelty condemned, he does not always form to
himfelf, in a very clear and diifinct manner, the con-
ception of any one particular action either of cruelty
or of humanity, but is commonly contented with the
vague and indeterminate idea which the general
names of thofe qualities fuggeft to him. But it is in
particular inftances only that the propriety or impro-
priety, the merit or demerit of actions is very obvious
and difcernible. It is only when particular exam-
ples are given that we perceive diftinctly either the
concord or difagreement between our own affections
and thofe of the agent, or feel a focial gratitude arife
towards
252 The Effect Part IV.
towards him in the one cafe, or a fympathetic re-
ientment in the other. When we confider virtue and
vice in an abftract and general manner, the qualities
by which they excite thefe ieveral fentiments feem in
a great meafure to diiappear, and the fentiments
themfelves become lefs obvious and difcernible. On
the contrary, the happy effects of the one and the
fatal confequences of the other feem then to rife up
to the view, and as it were to (land out and diftin-
guifh themfelves from all the other qualities of
either.
The fame ingenious and agreeable author who
firft explained why utility pleafes, has been fo (truck
with this view of things, as to refolve our whole ap-
probation of virtue into a perception of this fpecies
of beauty which refults from the appearance of uti-
lity. No qualities of the mind, he obferves, are ap-
proved of as virtuous, but fuch as are ufefui or
agreeable either to the perfon himfelf or to others ;
and no qualities are difapproved of as vicious but
fuch as have a contrary tendency. And Nature, in-
deed, feems to have fo happily adjufted our fenti-
ments of approbation and difapprobation, to the con-
veniency both of the individual and of the fociety,
that after the ftricteft examination it will be found, I
believe, that this is univerfally the cafe. But (till I
affirm, that it is not the view of this utility or hurt-
fulnefs which is either the firft or principal fource of
our approbation and difapprobation. Thefe fenti-
ments are no cloubt enhanced and enlivened by the
perception of the beauty or deformity which refults
from this utility or hurtfulnefs. But (till, I fay,
they are originally ar.d effentially different from this
perception.
For
Chap. II. ^Utility. 25g
For firfb of all, it feems impoflible that the appro-
bation of virtue mould be a fentiment of the fame
kind with that by which we approve of a convenient
and well contrived building •, or that we fhould have
no other reafon for praifing a man than that for
which we commend a cheft of drawers.
And fecondly, it will be found, upon examinati-
on, that the ufefulnefs of any difpofuion of mind is
feldom the firft ground of our approbation •, and that
the fentiment of approbation always involves in it a
fenfe of propriety quite diftincl from the perception
of utility. We may obferve this with regard to all
the qualities which are aproved of as virtuous, both
thofe which, according to this fyftem, are originally
valued as ufeful to ourfelves, as well as thofe which
are efteemed on account of their ufefulnefs to others.
The qualities mod ufeful to ourfelves are, firft of
all, fuperior reafon and underftanding, by which
we are capable of difcerning the remote confequen-
ces of all our actions, and of forefeeing the advan-
tage or detriment which is likely to refult from
them : and fecondly, felf- command, by which we
are enabled to abftain from prefent pleafure or to en-
dure prefent pain, in order to obtain a greater plea-
fure or to avoid a greater pain in fome future time.
In the union of thofe two qualities confifts the vir-
tue of prudence, of all the virtues that which is moil:
ufeful to the individual.
With regard to the firft of thofe qualities, it has
been obferved on a former occafion, that fuperior
reafon and underftanding are originally approved of
as
254 7i* Ejfect Part IV,
as juft and right and accurate, and not merely as
ufeful or advantageous. It is in the abftrufer fciences,
particularly in the higher parts of mathematics, that
the greater! and moft admired exertions of human
reafon have been difplayed. But the utility of thofe
fciences, either to the individual or to the public, is
not very obvious, and to prove it requires a difcuf-
fion which is not always very eafily comprehended.
It was not, therefore, their utility which firft recom-
mended them to the public admiration. This qua-
lity was but little infilled upon, till it became necef-
fary to make fome reply to the reproaches of thofe,
who, having themfelves no tafte for fuch fublime
difcoveries, endeavoured to depreciate them as ufe-
lefs.
That felf-command, in the fame manner, by which
we reftrain our prefent appetites, in order to gratify
them more fully upon another occafion, is approved
of, as much under the afpect of propriety, as under
that of utility. When we act in this manner, the
fentiments which influence our conduct feem exactly
to coincide with thofe of the fpectator. The fpecta-
tor does not feel the folicitations of our prefent appe-
tites. To him the pleafure which we are to enjoy a
week hence, or a year hence, is juft as interefting
as that which we are to enjoy this moment. When
for the fake of the prefent, therefore, we facrifice
the future, our conduct appears to him abfurd and
extravagant in the higheft degree, and he cannot en-
ter into the principles which influence it. On the
contrary, when we abftain from prefent pleafure, in
order to fecure greater pleafure to come, when we
act as if the remote object interefts us as much as
that which immediately prelTes upon the fenfes, as
our
Chap. II. ^/Utility. 2,55
our affe6tions exactly correfpond with his own, he
cannot fail to approve of our behaviour : and as he
knows from experience, how few are capable of this
felf-command, he looks upon our conduct with a
confiderable degree of wonder and admiration.
Hence arifes that eminent efleem with which all
men naturally regard a Heady perieverance in the
practice of frugality, induftry, and application,
though directed to no other purpofe than the acqui-
fition of fortune. The refolute firmnefs of the per-
fon who acts in this manner, and in order to obtain
a great though remote advantage, not only gives up
all prefent pleafures, but endures the greateft labour
both of mind and body, necefiarily commands our
approbation. That view of his intereft and happi-
nefs which appears to regulate his conduct, exactly
tallies with the idea which we naturally form of it.
There is the mod perfect correfpondence between his
fentiments and our own, and at the fame time, from
our experience of the common weaknefs of human
nature, it is a correfpondence which we could not
reafonably have expected. We not only approve,
therefore, but in fome meafure admire his conduct,
and think it worthy of a confiderable degree of ap^
plaufe. It is the confcioufnefs of this merited appro-
bation and efteem which is alone capable of fupport-
ing the agent in this tenour of conduct. The plea-
fure which we are to enjoy ten years hence interefts
us fo little in comparifon with that which we may
enjoy to-day, the paffion which the firft excites, is
naturally fo weak in comparifon with that violent
emotion which the fecond is apt to give occafion to,
that one could never be any balance to the other, un-
lefs it was fupported by the fenfe of propriety, by
the confcioufnefs that we merited the efteem and
approbation
256 Tbt Effect Part IV.
approbation of every body, by acting in the one
way, and that we became the proper objects of their
contempt and derifion by behaving in the other.
Humanity, juftice, generofity, and public fpirit,
are the qualities moll ufeful to others. Wherein
confifts the propriety of humanity and juftice has
been explained upon a former occafion, where it
was fhewn how much ourefteem and approbation of
thofe qualities depended upon the concord between
the affections of the agent and thofe of the fpecta-
tors.
The propriety of generofity and public fpirit is
founded upon the fame principle with that of juftice.
Generofity is different from humanity. Thofe two
qualities, which at firft fight feem fo nearly allied,
do not always belong to the fame perfon. Humani-
ty is the virtue of a woman, generofity of a man.
The fair fex, who have commonly much more ten-
dernefs than ours, have feldom fo much generofity.
That women rarely make confiderable donations is
an obfervation of the civil law*. Humanity confifts
merely in the exquifite fellow-feeling which the fpec-
tator entertains with the fentiments of the perfon§
principally concerned, fo as to grieve for their fuf-
ferings, to refent their injuries, and to rejoice at
their good fortune. The mod humane actions re-
quire no felf-denial, no felf-command, no great ex-
ertion of the fenfe of propriety. They confift only
in doing what this exquifite fympathy would of its
own accord prompt us to do. But it is otherwife
with
* Raro mulieres donare folcnt.
Chap. II. (/Utility. 257
with generofny. We never are generous except
when in fome refpeft we prefer fome other perfon to
ourfelves, and facrifice fome great and important in-
tereft of ou*r own to an equal intereft of a friend or of
a fuperior. The man who gives up his pretentions
to an office that was the great object of his ambition,
becaufe he imagines that the fervices of another are
better entitled to it •, the man who expofes his life to
defend that of his friend, which he judges to be of
more importance, neither of them aft from humani-
ty, or becaufe they feel more exquifitely what con-
cerns that other perfon than what concerns themfelves.
They both confider thofe oppofite interefts not in the
light in which they naturally appear to themfelves,
but in that in which they appear to others. To every
byftander, the fuccefs or prefervation of this other
perfon may juftly be more interefting than their own •,
but it cannot be fo to themfelves. When to the in-
tereft of this other perfon, therefore, they facrifice
their own, they accommodate themfelves to the fen-
timents of the fpeftator, and by an effort of magna-
nimity aft according to thofe views of things which
they feel, muft naturally occur to any third perfon.
The foldier who throws away his life in order to de-
fend that of his officer, would perhaps be but little
afFefted by the death of that officer, if it fhould
happen without any fault of his own ; and a very
fmall difafter which had befallen himfelf might ex-
cite a much more lively forrow. But when he en-
deavours to aft fo as to deferve applaufe, and to
make the impartial fpeftator enter into the princi-
ples of his conduft, he feels, that to every body but
himfelf, his own life is a trifle compared with that of
his officer, and that when he facrifices the one to the
other, he afts quite properly and agreeably to what
S would
25S Tbe Effect Part IV.
would be the natural apprehenfions of every impar-
tial byftander.
It is the fame cafe with the greater exertions of
public fpirit. When a young officer expofes his life
to acquire fome inconfiderable addition to the domi-
nions of his fovereign, it is not, becaufe the acqui-
fition of the new territory is, to himfelf, an object
more defireable than the prefervation of his own
life. To him his own life is of infinitely more va-
lue than the conqueft of a whole kingdom for the
Hate which he ferves. But when he compares thofe
two objects with one another, he does not view them
in the light in which they naturally appear to him-
felf, but in that in which they appear to the nation
he rights for. To them the fuccefs of the war
is of the higheft importance ; the life of a pri-
vate perfon of fcarce any confequence. When he
puts himfelf in their fituation, he immediately feels
that he cannot be too prodigal of his blood, if by
fhedding it, he can promote fo valuable a purpofe.
In thus thwarting, from a fenfe of duty and proprie-
ty, the ftrongeft of all natural propenfities, confifts
the heroifm of his conduct. There is many an ho-
neft Englilhman, who, in his private itation, would
be more ferioufly difturbed by the lofs of a guinea,
than by the national lofs of Minorca, who yet, had
it been in his power to defend that fortrefs, would
have facrificed his life a thoufand times rather than,
through his fault, have let it fall into the hands of
the enemy. When the firft Brutus led forth his
own fons to a capital punifhrnent, becaufe they had
confpired againft the rifing liberty of Rome, he fa-
crificed what, if tie had confulted his own bread
only, would appear to be the flronger to the weaker
affection.
Chap. II; of U t i L i t y. 259
affection. Brutus ought naturally to have felt much
more for the death of his own fons, than for all th4t
probably Rome could have fuffered from the want of
fo great an example. But he viewed them, not with
the eyes of a father, but with thofeof a Roman citizen.
He entered fo thoroughly into the fentiments of this
laft character, that he paid no regard to that tye,
by which he himfelf was connected with them ; and
to a Roman citizen, the fons even of Brutus feemed
contemptible, when put into the balance with the
fmalleft intereft of Rome. In thefe and in all other
cafes of this kind, our admiration is not fo much
founded upon the utility, as upon the unexpected,
and on that account the great, the noble, and exalt-
ed propriety of fuch actions. This utility, when we
come to view it, bellows upon them, undoubtedly,
a new beauty, and upon that account ilill further
recommends them to our approbation. This beauty,
however, is chiefly perceived by men of reflection
and fpeculation, and is by no means the quality
which flrft recommends fuch actions to the natural
fentiments of the bulk of mankind.
It is to be obferved, that fo far as the fentiment
of approbation arifes from the perception of this
beauty of utility, it has no reference of any kind to
the fentiments of others. If it was poffible, there-
fore, that a perfon mould grow up to manhood with-
out any communication with fociety, his own actions
might, notwithstanding, be agreeable or difagreeable
to him on account of their tendency to his happinefs
or difadvantage. He might perceive a beauty of
this kind in prudence, temperance, and good con-
duct, and a deformity in the oppofite behaviour :
He might view his own temper and character with
S 2 that
260 The Effect, &c. Part IV.
that fort of fatisfaction with which we confider a well
contrived machine, in the one cafe-, or with that
fort of diftafte and diflatisfaction with which we regard
a very awkward and clumfy contrivance, in the
other. As thefe perceptions, however, are merely a
^natter of tafte, and have all the feeblenefs and deli-
cacy of that fpecies of perceptions, upon the juftnefs
of which what is properly called tafte is founded,
they probably would not be much attended to by one
in his folitary and miferable condition. Even though
they mould occur to him, they would by no means have
the fame effect upon him, antecedent to his connexi-
on with fociety, which they would have in confe-
quence of that connexion. He would not be caft
down with inward fhame at the thought of this de-
formity \ nor would he be elevated with fecret tri-
umph of mind from the confcioufnefs of the contrary
beauty. He would not exult from the notion of de-
ferving reward in the one cafe, nor tremble from the
fufpicion of meriting punifhment in the other. All
fuch fentiments fuppofe the idea of fome other being,
who is the natural judge of the peribn that feels
them ; and it is only by fympathy with the decifions
of this arbiter of his conduct, that he can conceive,
either the triumph of felf-applaufe, or the fhame of
felf-condemnation0
PAR T
PART V.
Of the Influence of Custom and
Fashion upon the fentiments of moral
approbation and difapprobation.
CONSISTING OF ONE SECTION.
CHAP. I.
Of the influence of cuftom and fafhion upon our noti-
ons of beauty and deformity.
A H E R E are other principles befides thofe al-
ready enumerated, which have a confiderable influ-
ence upon the moral fentiments of mankind, and are
the chief caufes of the many irregular and difcordant
opinions which prevail in different ages and nations
concerning what is blameable or praife- worthy.
Thefe principles are cuftom and fa&ion, principles
which extend their dominion over our judgments
concerning beauty of every kind.
When two objects have frequently been feen toge-
ther, the imagination acquires a habit of paMing
eafily from the one to the other. If the firft appear,
we lay our account that the fecond is to follow. Of
S 3 their
262 Of the Influence Part V.
their own accord they putjjs in mind of one another,
and the attention glides eafily along them. Though,
independent of cuftom, there fliould be no real
beauty in their union, yet when cuftom has thus
connected them together, we feel an impropriety in
their feparation. The one we think is awkward
when it appears without its ufual companion. We
mils fomething which we expected to find, and the
habitual arrangement of our ideas is difturbed by
the disappointment. A fuit of clothes, for example,
feems to want fomething if they are without the moft
infignificant ornament which ufually accompanies
them, and we find a meannefs or awkwardnefs in the
abfence even of a haunch button. When there is
any natural propriety in the union, cuftcm increafes
our fenfe of it, and makes a different arrangement
appear ftill more difagreeable than it would otherwife
feem 10 be. Thofe who have been accuftomed to
fee things in a good tafte, are more difgufted by
whatever is clumfy or awkward. Where the con-
junction is improper, cuftom either diminifhes, or
takes away altogether, our kwk of the impropriety.
Thole who have been accuftomed to flovenly diforder
loth all fenfe of neatnefs or elegance. The modes of
furniture or drefs which feem ridiculous to ftrangers,
give no offence to the people who are ufed to them.
Fafhion is different from cuftom, or rather is a
particular fpecies of it. That is not the fafhion which
every body wears, but which thofe wear who are of
a high rank, or character. The graceful, the eafy,
and commanding manners of the great, joined to the
uiual richnefs and magnificence of their drefs, give
a grace to the veryjbrm which they happen to beftow
upon
Chap. I. of C u s t o m. 263
upon it. As long as they continue to ufe this form,
it is connected in our imaginations with the idea of
fomeching that is genteel and magnificent, and though
in itfelf it mould be indifferent, it feems, on account
of this relation, to have fomething about it that is
genteel and magnificent too. As foon as they drop
it, it lofes all the grace, which it had appeared to poi-
fefs before, and being now ufed only by the inferior
ranks of people, feems to have fomething of their
meannefs and awkwardnefs.
Drefs and furniture are allowed by all the world
to be entirely under the dominion of cuftom and
fafhion. The influence of thofe principles, however,
is by no means confined to fo narrow a fphere, but
extends itfelf to whatever is in any refpect the object
of tade, to mufic, to poetry, to architecture. The
modes of drefs and furniture are continually chang-
ing, and that fafhion appearing ridiculous to-day
which was admired five years ago, we are experi-
mentally convinced that it owed, its vogue chiefly or
entirely to cuftom and fafhion. Clothes and furni-
ture are not made of very durable materials. A well
fancied coat is done in a twelve-month, and cannot
continue longer to propagate, as the fafhion, that
form according to which it was made. The modes
of furniture change lefs rapidly than thofe of drefs ;
becaufe furniture is commonly more durable. In
five or fix years, however, it generally undergoes an
entire revolution, and every man in his own time fees
the fafhion in this refpecl: change many different ways.
The productions of the other arts are much more lad-
ing, and, when happily imagined, may continue to
propagate the fafhion of their make for a much longer
time. A well contrived building may endure many
S 4 centuries
264 Of the Influence Part V.
centuries : a beautiful air may be delivered down by
a fort of tradition, through many fucceffive genera-
tions : a well written poem may laft as long as the
world ; and all of them continue for ages together,
to give the vogue to that particular ftyle, to that par-
ticular tafte or manner, according to which each of
them was compofed. Few men*have an opportunity
of feeing in their own times the fafhion in any of
the{c arts change very confiderably. Few men have
fo much experience and acquaintance with the differ-
ent modes which have obtained in remote ages and
nations, as to be thoroughly reconciled to them, or to
judge with impartiality between them, and what takes
place in their own age and country. Few men there-
fore are willing to allow that cuftom or fafhion have
much influence upon their judgments concerning
what is beautiful, or otherwife, in the productions
of any of thole, arts 5 but imagine, that all the rules,
which they think ought to be obferved in each of
them, are founded upon reafon and nature, not upon
habit or prejudice. A very little attention, however,
may convince them of the contrary, and fatisfy them,
that the influence of cuftom and fafhion over drefr,
and furniture, is not more abfolute than over archi-
tecture, poetry, and mufic.
Can any reafon, for example, be afligned why the
Doric capital fhould be appropriated to a pillar,
whole height is equal to eight diameters ; the Ionic
volute to one of nine -, and the Corinthian foliage to
one of ten ? The propriety of each of thofe appro-
priations can be founded upon nothing but habit and
cuftom. The eye having been ufed to fee a particu-
lar proportion connected with a particular ornament^
would be offended if they were not joined together.
Each
Chap I. of C u s t • m. 26*5
Each of the five orders has its peculiar ornaments,
which cannot be changed for any other, without
giving offence to all thofe who know any thing of
the rules of architecture. According to fome archi-
tec~h, 1 indeed, fuch is the exquifite judgment with
which the ancients have afligned to each order its pro-
per ornaments, that no others can be found which
are equally fuitable. It feems, however, a little diffi-
cult to be conceived that thefe forms, though, no
doubt, extremely agreeable, fliould be the only forms
which can fuit thofe proportions, or that there mould
not be five hundred others which, antecedent to
eftablilhed cuftom, would have fitted them equally
well. When cuftom, however, has eftablifhed par-
ticular rules of building, provided they are not ab-
folutely unreafonable, it is abfurd to think of alter-
ing them for others which are only equally good, or
even for others which, in point of elegance and
beauty, have naturally fome little advantage over
them. A man would be ridiculous who fliould ap-
pear in public with a fuit of clothes quite different
from thofe which are commonly worn, though the
new drefs mould in itfelf be ever fo graceful or con-
venient. And there feems to be an abfurdity of the
fame kind in ornamenting a houfe after a quite dif-
ferent manner from that which cuftom and fafhion
have prefcribed •, though the new ornaments fhould
in themfelves be fomewhat fuperior to the common
ones.
According to the ancient rhetoricians, a certain
meafure or verfe was by nature appropriated to each
particular fpecies of writing, as being naturally ex-
preffive of that character, fentiment, or paflion,
which
266 Of the Influence Part V.
which ought to predominate in it. One verfe, they
faid, was fit for grave and another for gay works,
which could not, they thought, be interchanged
without the greateft impropriety. The experience
of modern times, however, feems to contradict this
principle, though in itfelf it would appear to be
extremely probable. What is the burlefque verfe in
Englifh is the heroic verfe in French. The trage-
dies of Racine and the Henriad of Voltaire, are in
the fame verfe with,
Thus faid to my lady the knight full of care.
The burlefque verfe in French, on the contrary, is
pretty much the fame with the heroic verfe of ten
fyllables in Englifh. Cuftom has made the one na-
tion affociate the ideas of gravity, fublimity, and
ferioufnefs, to that meafure which the other has
connected with whatever is gay, flippant, and ludi-
crous. Nothing would appear more abfurd in Eng-
lifh than a tragedy written in the Alexandrine verfes
of the French ; or in French, than a work of the
fame kind in verfes of ten fyllables.
An eminent artift will bring about a confiderable
change in the eftablifhed modes of each of thofe arts,
and introduce a new fafhion of writing, mufic, or
architecture. As the drefs of an agreeable man of
high rank recommends itfelf, and how peculiar and
fantaftical foeyer, comes foon to be admired and
imitated ♦, fo the excellencies of an eminent nufter
recommend his peculiarities, and his manner becomes
the fafhionable ftyle in the art which he practifes.
The tafte of the Italians in mufic and architecture,
has, within thefe fifty years* undergone a confiderable
* change.
Chap. L of Custom. 26j
change, from imitating the peculiarities of ibme
eminent matters in each of thofe arts. Seneca is ac-
cufed by Quintilian of having corrupted the tafte of
the Romans, and of having introduced a frivolous
prettinefs in the room of majeftic reafon and mafcu-
line eloquence. Salluft and Tacitus have by others
been charged with the fame accusation, tho' in a dif-
ferent, manner. They gave reputation, it is pre-
tended, to a ftyle, which though in the higheft de-
gree concife, elegant, exprefiivc, and even poetical,
wanted, however, eafe, iimpiicity, and nature, and
was evidently the production of the mod laboured
and ftudied affectation. How many great qualities
mud that writer poffefs who can thus render his very
faults agreeable? After the praife of refining the
tafte of a nation, the higheft eulogy, perhaps, which
can be beftowed upon any author is to fay, that he
corrupted it. In our own language, Mr. Pope and
Dr. Swift have each of them introduced a manner
different from what was practifed before, into all
works that are written in rhyme, the one in long
verfes, the other in fhort. The quaintnefs of Butler
has given place to the plamnels of Swift. The
rambling freedom of Dryden, and the correct but
often tedious and profaic languor of Addifon, are no
longer the objects of imitation, but all long verfes
are now written after the manner of the nervous pre-
cifion of Mr. Pope.
Neither is it only over the productions of the arts,
that cuftom and fafhion exert their dominion. They
influence our judgments, in the fame manner, with
regard to the beauty of natural objects. What vari-
ous and oppofite forms are deemed beautiful in dif-
ferent fpecies of things ? The proportions which are
admired
?68 0/ /^ Influence Part V.
admired in one animal, are altogether different from
thofe which are efteemed in another. Every clafs of
things has its own peculiar conformation, which is
approved of, and has a beauty of its own, diftinc~t
from that of every other fpecies. It is upon this
account that a learned Jefuit, father Burlier, has
determined that the beauty of every objedt confifts in
that form and colour, which is mod ufual among
things of that particular fort to which it belongs.
Thus, in the human form, the beauty of each
feature lies in a certain middle equally remov-
ed from a variety of other forms that are ugly.
A beautiful nofe, for example, is one that is neither
very long, nor very fhort, neither very ftraight, nor
very crooked, but a fort of middle among all thefe
extremes, and lefs different from any one of them,
than all of them are from one another. It is the
form which Nature feems to have aimed at in them
all, which, however, fhe deviates from in a great
variety of ways, and very feldom hits exactly •, but
to which all thofe deviations (till bear a very ftrong
refcmblance. When a number of drawings are
made after one pattern, though they may all mifs it
in fome refpects, yet they will all refemble it more
than they refemble one another •, the general charac-
ter of the pattern will run through them all •, the moil
fmgular and odd will be thofe which are moft wide
of it •, and though very few will copy it exactly, yet
the moft accurate delineations will bear a greater re-
femblance to the moft carelefs, than the carelefs
ones will bear to one another. In the fame manner,
in each fpecies of creatures, what is moft beautiful
bears the ftrongeft charadters of the general fabric of
the fpecies, and hasvthe ftrongeft refemblance to the
greater part of the individuals with which it is
claffecl
Chap. I. c/ Custom, 269
claffed. Monfters. on the contrary, or what is per-
fectly deformed, are always mod fingular and odd,
and have the lead reiemblance to the generality of
that fpecies to which they belong. And thus the
beauty of each fpecies, though in one ienfe the rareft
of all things, becaufe few individuals hit this middle
form exactly, yet in another, is the molt common,
becaufe all the deviations from it refemble it more
than they refemble one another. The mod cuftom-
ary form, therefore, is in each fpecies of things,
according to him, the moft beautiful. And hence it
is that a certain practice and experience in contem-
plating each fpecies of objects is requifite, before
we can judge of its beauty, or know wherein the
middle and moft ufual form confifts. The niceft
judgment concerning the beauty of the human fpe-
cies, will not help us to judge of that of flowers, or
horfes, or any other fpecies of things. It is for the fame
reafon that in different climates and where different
cuftoms and ways of living take place, as the gene-
rality of any fpecies receives a different conformation
from thofe circumftances, lb different ideas of its
beauty prevail. The beauty of a Moorifh is not ex-
actly the fame with that of an Englifh horfe. What
different ideas are formed in different nations con-
cerning the beauty of the human fhape and counte-
ance? A fair complexion is a mocking deformity
upon the coaft of Guinea. Thick lips and a flat
nofe are a beauty. In fome nations long ears that hang
down upon the fhoulders are the objects of univer-
fal admiration. In China if a lady's foot is fo large
as to be fit to walk upon, fhe is regarded as a mon-
fter of uglinefs. Some of the favage nations in
North- America tie four boards round the heads of
their children, and thus fqueeze them, while the
bones
?7° Of the Influence Part X.
bones are tender and griftly, into a form that is al-
moft perfectly fquare. Europeans are aftonifhed at
the abfurd barbarity of this practice, to which fome
miffionaries have imputed the lingular ftupidity 0/
thofe nations among whom it prevails. But when
they condemn thofe favages, they do not reflect
that the ladies in Europe had, till within thefe very-
few years, been endeavouring, for near a century
paft, to fqueeze the beautiful roundneis of their na-
tural fh ape into a fquare form of the fame kind.
And that notwithstanding the many diftortions and
difeafes which this practice was known to occafion,
cuftom had rendered it agreeable among fome of the
mod civilized nations, which, perhaps, the world
ever beheld.
Such is the fyflem of this learned and ingenious
father, concerning the nature of beauty ; of which
the whole charm, according to him, would thus
feem to arife from its falling in with the habits which
'cuftom had imprelled upon the imagination, with
regard to things of each particular kind. I cannot,
however, be induced to believe that our fenfe even
of external beauty is founded altogether on cuftom.
The utility of any form, its fitneis for the ufeful
purpofes for which it was intended, evidently re-
commends it, and renders it agreeable to us inde-
pendent of cuftom. Certain colours are more agree-
able than others, and give more delight to the eye
the firft time it ever beholds them. A fmooth fur-
face is more agreeable than a rough one. Variety is
more pleafmg than a tedious undiverfified uniformity.
Connected variety, in which each new appearance
feems to be introduced by what went before it, and in
which all the adjoining parrs feem to have fome na-
tural
Chap. II. ©/Custom. 271
tural relation to one another, is more agreeable than
a disjointed and diforderly aflemblage of unconnect-
ed objects. But though I cannot admit that cuftom
is the fole principle of beauty, yet I can ib far allow
the truth of this ingenious fyftem as to grant, that
there is fcarce any one external form fo beautiful as
to pleafe, if quite contrary to cuftom and unlike
whatever we have been ufed to in that particular fpe-
cies of things : or fo deformed as not to be agreeable,
if cuftom uniformly iupports it, and habituates us
to fee it in every fingle individual of the kind.
CHAP. II.
Of the influence of cuftom and fafoion upon moral
fentiments.
O I N C E our fentiments concerning beauty of
every kind are fo much influenced by cuftom and
fafhion, it cannot be expected, that thofe, concern-
ing the beauty, of conduct, fhould be entirely ex-
empted from the dominion of thofe principles. Their
influence here, however, fcems to be much lefs than
it is every where elfe. There is, perhaps, no form
of external objects, how abfurd and fantaftical fo-
ever, to which cuftom will not reconcile us, or
which fafhion will not render even agreeable. But
the characters and conduct of a Nero, or a Claudius,
are what no cuftom will ever reconcile us to, what
no fafhion will ever render agreeable ; but the one
will always be the object of dread and hatred ; the
other of fcorn and derifion. The principles of the
imagination, upon which our fenfe of beauty de-
pends,
272 Of the Influx nnc e Part V.
pends, are of a very nice and delicate nature, and
may ealily be altered by habit and education : but
the fentiments of moral approbation and difappro-
bation, are founded on the ftrongeft and mod vigo-
rous paffions of human nature •, and though they
may be fomewhat warpt, cannot be entirely per-
verted.
But though the influence of cuftom and faihion,
upon moral fentiments, is not altogether fo great,
it is however perfectly fimilar to what it is every
where elfe. When cuftom and faihion coincide
with the natural principles of right and wrong, they
heighten the delicacy of our fentiments, and increale
our abhorrence for every thing which approaches to
evil. Thofe who have been educated in what is
really good company, not in what is commonly
called fuch, who have been accu domed to fee no-
thing in the perfons whom they efteemed and lived
with, but juftice, modefty, humanity, and good
order •, are more Ihocked with whatever feems to be
inconflftent with the rules which thofe virtues pre-
fcribe. Thofe, on the contrary, who have had the
misfortune to be brought up amidft violence, licen-
tioufnefs, falfehood, and injuftice •, lofe, though not
all fenfe of the impropriety of fuch conduct, yet all
fenfe of its dreadful enormity, or of the vengeance
and punifhment due to it. They have been famili-
arized with it from their infancy, cuftom has ren-
dered it habitual to them, and they are very apt to
regard it as, what is called the way of the world,
fomething which either may, or muft be prac-
tifed, to hinder us from being the dupes of our
own integrity. '■
Faihion
Chap. II. of C 1/ s t o m. |«i
Fafhion too will fometimes give reputation to a
certain degree of diforder, and on the contrary dif-
countenance qualities which deferve efteem. In the
reign of Charles II. a degree of licentioufnefs was
deemed the characteristic of a liberal education. It
was connected, according to the notions of thofe
times, with generofity, fincerity, magnanimity, loy-
alty, and proved that the perfon who acted in this
manner, was a gentleman, and not a puritan ; fe-
verity of manners, and regularity of conduct, on
the other hand, were altogether unfafhionable, and
were connected, in the imagination of that age, with
cant, cunning, hypocrify, and low manners. To
fuperficial minds^ the vices of the great feem at all
times agreeable. They connect them* not only with
the fplendour of fortune, but with many fuperiour
virtues, which they afcribe to their fuperiors; with
the fpirit of freedom and independency, with frankr
nefs, generofity, humanity, and politenefs. The
virtues of the inferior ranks of people, on the con-
trary, their parfimonious frugality, their painful- in-
dustry, and rigid adherence to rules, feem to them
mean and difagreeable. They connect them, both
with the meannefs of the Station to which thofe quali-
ties commonly belong, and with many great vices,
which, they fuppofe, ufually accompany them •, fuch
as an abject, cowardly, ill-natured, lying, pilfering
difpofition.
The objects with which men in the different pro-
feflions and ftates of life are converfant, being very
different, and habituating them to very different paf-
fions, naturally form in them very different charac-
ters and manners. We expect in each rank and pro-
T fefllon,
274 Of the Influence Part V.
fefiion, a degree of thofe manners, which, experience
has taught us, belong to it. But as in each fpecies
of things, we are particularly pleafed with the middle
conformation, which in every part and feature agrees
mod exactly with the general ftandard which nature
feems to have eftablifhed for things of that kind •, fo
in each rank, or, if I may fay fo, in each fpecies of
men, we are particularly pleafed, if they have nei-
ther too much, nor too little of the character which
ufually accompanies their particular condition and
fituation. A man, we fay, fhouid look like his
trade and profeflion ; yet the pedantry of every pro-
feflion is difagreeable. The different periods of life
have, for the fame reafon, different manners affigned
to them. We expect in old age, that gravity and
fedatenefs which its infirmities, its long experience,
and its worn-out fenfibility feem to render both natu-
ral and refpectable ; and we lay our account to find
in youth that fenfibility, that gaiety and fprightly vi-
vacity which experience teaches us to expect: from
the lively impreffions that all interefting objects are
apt to make upon the tender and unpractiied fenfes
of that early period of life. Each of thofe two ages,
however, may eafily have too much of thefe peculi-
arities which belong to it. The flirting levity of
youth, and the immoveable infenfibility of old age,
are equally difagreeable. The young, according to
the common faying, are mofl agreeable when in
their behaviour there is fomething of the manners of
the old, and the old, when they retain fomething of
the gaiety of the young. Either of them, however,
may eafily have too much of the manners of the
other. The extreme coldnefs, and dull formality,
which are pardoned in old age, make youth ridicu-
lous. The levity, the carelefiheft, and the vanity,
which
Chap. I J. ^/Custom, 275
which are indulged in youth, render old age con-»
temptible.
The peculiar character and manners which we are
led by cuftom to appropriate to each rank and pro-
feffion,- have fometimes perhaps a propriety indepen-
dent of cuftom ; and are what we mould approve of
for their own fakes, if we took into confideration all
the different circumftances which naturally affect
thofe in each different ftate of life. The propriety
of a perfon's behaviour, depends not upon its fuitable-
nefs to any one circumftance of his fituation, but
to all the circumftances, which, when we bring his
cafe home to ourfelves we feel, fhould naturally call
upon his attention. If he appears to be fo much oc-
cupied by any one of them, as entirely to neglect the
reft, we difapprove of his conduct, as fomething
which we cannot entirely go along with, becaufe not
properly adjufted to all the circumftances of his fitu-
ation : yet, perhaps, the emotion he expreffes for
the object which principally interefts him, does not
exceed what we fhould entirely fympathize.with, and
approve of, in one whole attention was not required
by any other thing. A parent in private life might,
upon the lofs of an only fon, exprefs without blame,
a degree of grief and tendernefs, which would be un-
pardonable in a general at the head of an army, when
glory, and the public fafety demanded fo great a part
of his attention. As different objects ought, upon
common occafions, to occupy the attention of men
of different profefTions, fo different pa/lions ought,
naturally to become habitual to them ; and when we
bring home to ourfelves their fituation in this parti-
cular refpect, we muft be fenfible, that every occur-
rence fhould naturally affect them more or lefs, ac-
T 2. cording
276 Of the Influence Part V,.
cording as the emotion which it excites, coincides or
difagrees with the fixt habit and temper of their
minds. We cannot expect the fame fenfibility to the
gay pleafures and amufements of life in a clergyman
which we lay our account with in an officer. The
man whofe peculiar occupation it is to keep the
world in mind of that awful futurity which awaits
them, who is to announce what may be the fatal con-
fe-quences of every deviation from the rules of duty,
and who is himfelf to fet the example of the moft
exact conformity, feems to be the mefTenger of ti-
dings, which cannot, in propriety, be delivered either
with levity or indifference. His mind is fuppofed to
be continually occupied with what is too grand and
folemn, to leave any room for the impreflions of
thofe frivolous objects, which fill up the attention
of the diffipated and the gay. We readily feel there-
fore, that, independent of cuftom, there is a propri-
ety in the manners which cuftom has allotted to this
profeiTion ; and that nothing can be more fuitable to
the character of a clergyman, than that grave, that
auftere and abftracted feverity, which we are habitu-
ated to expect in his behaviour. Thefe reflections
are fo very obvious, that there is fcarce any man lb
inconfiderate, as not, at fome time, to have made
them, and to have accounted to himfelf in this man-
ner for his approbation of the ufual character of
this order.
The foundation of the cuftom ary character of
fome other profeiTions is not fo* obvious, and our ap-
probation of it is founded entirely in habit, without
being either confirmed, or enlivened by any reflections
of this kind. We are led by cuftom, for example,
to annex the character of gaiety, levity, and fprighdy
freedom,
Chap. II. ^/Custom, 277
freedom, as well as of fome degree of diffipation, to
the military profeffion : yet, if we were to confider
what mood or tone of temper would be moft fuita-
ble to this fituation, we mould be apt to determine,
perhaps, that the mod ferious and thoughtful turn of
mind, would bed become thole whofe lives are con-
tinually expofed to uncommon danger-, and who
fhould therefore be more conftantly occupied with
the thoughts of death and its confequences than other
men. It is this very circumftance, however, which
is not improbably the occafion why the contrary turn
of mind prevails fo much among men of this pro-
feiFion. It requires fo great an effort to conquer the
^fear of death, when we furvey it with (leadinefs and
attention, that thofe who are conftantly expofed to it,
find it eafier to turn away their thoughts from it al-
together, to wrap themfelves up in carelefs fecurity
and indifference, and to plunge themfelves, for this
purpoie, into every fort of amufcment and diffipa-
tion. A camp is not the element of a thoughtful
or a melancholy man : perfons of that cad, indeed,
are often abundantly determined, and are capable,
by a great effort, of going on with inflexible refolu-
tion to the moft unavoidable death. But to be ex-
pofed to continual, though lefs imminent danger, to
be obliged to exert, for a long time, a degree of this
effort, exhaufts and depreffes the mind, and renders
it incapable of all happinefs and enjoyment. The
gay and carelefs, who have occafion to make no ef-
fort at all, who fairly refolve never to look before
them, but to lofe in continual pleafures and amufe-
ments, all anxiety about their fituation, more eaflly
fnpport fuch circumftances. Whenever, by any
peculiar circumftances, an officer has no reafon to
lay his account with being expofed to any unc'om-
T 3 mon
2j8 Of the Influence Part V.
mon danger, he is very apt to lofe the gaiety and dif-
iipated thoughtlefsnefs of his character. The cap-
tain of a city guard is commonly as fober, careful,
and penurious an animal as the reft of his fellow- citi-
zens. A long peace is, for the fame reafon, very apt
to diminifh the difference between the civil and the
military character. The ordinary fituation, howe-
ver, of men of this profeflion, renders gaiety, and a
degree of diflipation, fo much their ufual character ;
and cuitom has, in our imagination, fo (trongly con-
nected this character with this ftate of life, that we
are very apt to defpife any man, whofe peculiar hu-
mour or fituation, renders him incapable of acquiring
it. We laugh at the grave and careful faces of a city
guard, which, fo little refemble thofe of their profef-
fion. They themfelves feem often to be afhamed of
the regularity of their own manners, and, not to be
out of the fafhion of their trade, are fond of affecting
that levity, which is by no means natural to them.
Whatever is the deportment which we have been ac-
cuftomed to fee in a refpectable order of men, it
comes to be fo affociated in our imagination with that
order, that whenever we fee the one, we lay our ac-
count that we are to meet with the other, and when
difappointed, mifs fomething which we expected to
find. We are embarraffed, and put to a (land, and
know not how to addrefs ourfelves to a character,
which plainly affects to be of a different fpecies
from thofe with which we mould have been difpofed
to clafs it. .
The different fituations of different ages and
countries, are apt, in the fame manner, to give dif-
ferent characters to the generality of thofe who live
in them, and their fentiments concerning the parti-
cular
Chap. II. cf C u s t o m. 279
cular degree of each quality, that is either blameable,
or praife-worthy, vary according to that degree,
which is ufual in their own country, and in their
own times. That degree of politenefs, which would
be highly efteerned, perhaps, would be thought ef-
feminate adulation, in Rufiia, would be regarded as
rudenefs and barbarifm at the court of France.
That degree of order and frugality, which, in a
Polifh nobleman, would be confidered as cxceflive
parfimony, would be regarded as extravagance in a
citizen of Amfterdam. Every age and country look
upon that degree of each quality, which is commonly
to be met with in thofe who are efteerned among
themfelves, as the golden mean of that particular
talent or virtue. And as this varies, according as
their different circumftances render different qualities
more or lefs habitual to them, their fentirnents con-
cerning the exact propriety of character and behavi-
our vary accordingly.
Among civilized nations, the virtues which are
founded upon humanity, are more cultivated than
thofe which are founded upon felf-denial and the
command of the paffions. Among rude and bar-
barous nations, it is quite otherwife, the virtues of
felf-denial are more cultivated than thofe of huma-
nity. The general fecurity and happinefs which
prevail in ages of civility and politenefs afford little
exercife to the contempt of danger, to patience in
enduring labour, hunger, and pain. Poverty may
eafily be avoided, and the contempt of it therefore^"
almoft ceafes to be a virtue. The abflinence from
pleafure, becomes lefs neceffary, and the mind
is more at liberty to unbend itfelf, and to indulge
T 4 its
zSo Of the Influence. Part V,
its natural inclinations in all thofe particular re-
aped s.
Among favages and barbarians it is quite other-
wife. Every favage undergoes a fort of Spartan
difcipline, and by the neceffity of his fituation is in-
ured to every fort of hardfhip. He is in continual
danger : He is often expofed to the greateft extremi-
ties of hunger, and frequently dies of pure want.
His circumftances not only habituate him, to every
fort of diftrefs, but teach him to give way to none of
the paffions which that diftrefs is apt to excite. He
can expect from his countrymen no fympathy or in-
dulgence for fuch weaknefs. Before we can feel
much for others, we mud in fome meafure be at
eafe ourfelves. If our own mifery pinches us very
feverely, we have no leifure to attend to that of our
neighbour : And all favages are too much occupied
with their own wants and neceffities, to give much
attention to thofe of another perfon. A favage,
therefore, whatever be the nature of his diftrefs, ex-
peels no fympathy from thofe about him, and dif-
clains, upon that account, to expofe himfelf, by slU
lowing the leaft weaknefs to efcape him. His paf-
fions, how furious and violent foe^er, are never per-
mitted to difturb the ferenity of his countenance or
the compofure of his conduct and behaviour. The
favages in North America, we are told, alTume upon
all occafions the greateft indifference, and would
think themfelves degraded if they fliould ever ap-
pear in any refpecl: to be overcome, either by love,
or grief, or refentment. Their magnanimity and
fdf-command, in tfris refpecl:, are almoft beyond the
conception of Europeans. In a country in which,
dl men are upon > level, with regard to rank and
fortune
Chap. II. of C U S T o m. 281
fortune, it might be expected that the mutual incli-
nations of the two parties fhould be the only thing
confidered in marriages, and fhould be indulged
without any fort of controul. This, however, is the
country in which all marriages, without exception,
are made up by the parents, and in which a young
man would think himfelf difgraced for ever, if he
fhewed the lead preference of one woman above an-
other, or did not exprels the mod complete indiffer-
ence, both about the time when, and the perfon to
whom he was to be married. The weaknefs of love,
which is fo much indulged in ages of humanity and
politenefs, is regarded among favages as the moft un-
pardonable effeminacy. Even after the marriage the
two parties feem to be afhamed of a connexion which
is founded upon fo fordid a neceflity. They do not
live together. They fee one another by Health only.
They both continue to dwell in the houfes of their re-
ipective fathers, and the open cohabitation of the
two fexes, which is permitted without blame in all
other countries, is here confidered as the moft inde-
cent and unmanly fenfuality. Nor is it only over
this agreeable paflion that they exert this abfolute
felf-command. They often bear in the fight of all
their countrymen with injuries, reproach, and the
groflfeft infults with the appearance of the greatett in-
fenfibility, and without exprefTing the fmalleft re-
fentment. "When a favage is made prifoner of war,
and receives, as is ufual, the fentence of death from
his conquerors, he hears it without exprefTing any
emotion, and afterwards fubmits to the moft dread-
ful torments, without ever bemoaning himfelf, or
difcovering any other paflion but contempt of his
enemies. While he is hung by the moulders over a
flow fire, he derides his tormentors, and tells them
with
2%z Of the I n f l u e n c e - Part V*
with how much more ingenuity, he himfelf had tor-
mented fuch of their countrymen as had fallen into
his hands. After he has been fcorched and burnt,
and lacerated in all the moft tender and fenftble parts
of his body for feveral hours together, he is often al-
lowed, in order to prolong his miiery, a ftiort refpite,
and is taken down from the (lake : he employs this
interval in talking upon all indifferent fubjects, in-
quires after the news of the country, and feems in-
different about nothing but his own fituation. The
fpeclators exprefs the fame infenfibility ; the fight of
fo horrible an object feems to make no impreffion
upon them •, they fcarce look at the prifoner, except
when they lend a hand to torment him. At other
times they fmoke tobacco, and amufe themfelves
with any common object, as if no fuch matter was
going on. Every favage is faid to prepare himfelf
from his earlieft youth for this dreadful end. He
compofes, for this purpofe, what they call the fong of
death, a fong which he is to fmg when he has fallen
into the hands of his enemies, and is expiring under
the tortures which they inflict upon him. It confifts
of infults upon his tormentors, and expreffes the
higher!; contempt of death and pain. He fings this
fong upon all extraordinary occafions, when he goes
out to war, when he meets his enemies in the field,
or whenever he has a mind to mow that he has farni-
liarifed his imagination to the mod dreadful misfor-
tunes, and that no human event can daunt his refo-
lution, or alter, his purpofe. The fame contempt of
death and torture prevails among all other favage na-
tions. There is not a negro from the coaft of Africa
who does nor, in this refpedl, poffefs a degree of
magnanimity which^he foul of his fordid matter is
too
Chap. II. ^/Custom. 283
too often fcarce capable of conceiving. Fortune
never exerted more cruelly her empire over mankind,
than when fhe fubjedted thofe nations of heroes to
the refufe of the jails of Europe, to wretches who
ponefs the virtues neither of the countries which
they come from," nor of thofe which they go to, and
whofe levity, brutality, and bafenefs, fo juftly expofe
them to the contempt of the vanquifhed.
This heroic and unconquerable firmnefs, which
the cuftom and education of his country demand of
every lavage, is not required of thole who are brought
up to live in civilized focieties. If thefe laft complain
when they are in pain, if they grieve when they are
in diftrefs, if they allow themfelves either to be
overcome by love, or to be difcompofed by anger,
they are eafily pardoned. Such weakneffes are not
apprehended to afFecl: theefTential parts of their cha-
racter. As long as they do not allow themfelves to
be tranfported to do any thing contrary to juftice or
humanity, they lofe but little reputation, though the
ierenity of their countenance or the compofure of
their difcourfe and behaviour mould be lbmewhat
ruffled and diflurbed. A humane and polifhed peo-
ple, who have more fenfibility to the paflions of
others, can more readily enter into an animated and
pafiionate behaviour, and can more eafily pardon
ibme little excels. The perfon principally concerned
is fenfible of this ; and being allured of the equity
of his judges, indulges himfelf in ftronger expreffions
of paffion, and is lefs afraid of expofing himfelf to
their contempt by the violence of his emotions. We
can venture ro exprefs more emotion in the prefence
of a friend than in that of a ftranger, becaufe we ex-
peel: more indulgence from the one than from the
other.
284 Of the 1 n f l u e n c e - Part V.
other. And in the fame manner the rules of decorum
among civilized nations, admit of a more animated
behaviour, than is approved of among barbarians.
The firft converle together with the opennefs of
friends ; the fecond with the referve of ftrangers.
The emotion and vivacity with which the French
and the Italians, the two moft polifhed nations upon
the continent, exprefs themfelves on occafions that
are at all interefting, furprife at firft thofe ftrangers
who happen to be travelling among them, and who,
having been educated among a people of duller fenfi-
bility, cannot enter into this pafFionate behaviour,
of which they have never feen any example in their
own country. A young French nobleman will weep
in the preience of the whole court upon being refufed
a regiment. An Italian, fays the abbot Du Bos, ex-
prefies more emotion on being condemned in a fine
of twenty (hillings, than an Englishman on receiving
the fentence of death. Cicero, in the times of the
highcft Roman politenefs, could, without degrading
himfelf, weep with all the bitternefs of lbrrow in the
fight of the whole fenate and the whole people ; as
it is evident he muft have done in the end of almoft
every oration. The orators of the earlier and ruder
ages of Rome could not probably, confilient with
the manners of the times, have expreffcd themfelves
with fo much emotion. It would have been re-
garded, I iuppofe, as a violation of nature and pro-
priety in the Scipios. in the Leliufes, and in the el-
der Cato, to have expofed lb much tenderneis to the
view of the public. Thofe ancient warriors could
exprefs themfelves, with order, gravity, and good
judgment •, but are laid to have been ftrangers to
that iubiimeand palli-Qnate eloquence which was firft
introduced into Rome, not many years before the
birth
Chap. II. of C u s t o m. 2§^
birth of Cicero, by the two Gracchi, by Craflus, and
by Sulpitius. This animated eloquence, which has
been long praclifed, with or without fuccefs, both in
France and Italy, is but juft beginning to be intro-
duced into England. So wide is the difference be-
tween the degrees of felf-command which are re-
quired in civilized and in barbarous nations, and by
iuch different ftandards do they judge of the pro-
priety of behaviour.
This difference gives occafion to many others that
are not lefs effential. A polifhed people being ac-
cu domed to give way, in fome mealure, to the move-
ments of nature, become frank, open, and fincere,
Barbarians, on the contrary, being obliged to fmo-
ther and conceal the appearance of every paflion,
neceffarily acquire the habits of falfehood and dif-
fimulation. It is oblerved by all thofe who have
been converfant with favage nations, whether in
Afia, Africa, or America, that they are all equally
impenetrable, and that, when they have a mind to
conceal the truth, no examination is capable^ of
drawing it from them. They cannot be trepanned
by the mod artful queftions. The torture itfelf is
incapable of making them confefs any thing which
they have no mind to tell. The paffions of a fa-
vage too, though they never exprefs themfelves by
any outward emotion, but lie concealed in the breafl:
of the fufferer, are, notwithftanding, all mounted to
the highelt pitch of fury. Though he fcrldom fhows
any fymptoms of anger, yet his vengeance, when he
comes to give way to it, is always ianguinary and
dreadful. The lead: affront drives him to defpair.
His countenance and difcourfe indeed are ftill fober
and comoofed, and exprefs nothing but the mod: per-
fedt
286 Of the 1 n f l u e n c e Part V,
feet tranquillity of mind: But his actions are often
the mod furious and violent. Among the North-
Americans it is not uncommon for perfons of the
tenderer! age and more fearful fex to drown them-
felves upon receiving only a flight reprimand from
their mothers, and this too without exprefling any
pafTions or faying any thing, except, youjhallno Ion-
ger have a daughter. In civilized nations the paf-
fions of men are not commonly fo furious or fo def-
perate. They are often clamorous and noify, but
are feldom very hurtful j and feem frequently to aim
at no other fatisfaction, but that of convincing the
fpectator, that they are in the right to be fo much
moved, and of procuring his fympathy and appro-
bation.
All thefe effects of cuftom and fafhion, however,
upon the moral fentiments of mankind, are inconfi-
derable in comparifon of thofe which they give occa-
fion to in fome other cafes ; and it is not concerning
the general ftyle of character and behaviour, that
thofe principles produce the greater! perverfion of
judgment, but concerning the propriety or impro-
priety of particular ufages.
The different manners which cuftom teaches us to
approve of in the different profeilions and ftates of
life, do not concern things of the greateft importance.
We expect truth and juftice from an old man as well
as from a young, from a clergyman as well as from
an officer •, and it is in matters of fmall moment only
that we look for the diftinguifhing marks of their re-
fpective characters. With regard to thefe too, there
is often fome unobferved circumftance which, if it
was attended to, woultl fhow us, that, independent
of
Chap. II. ^/Custom. 287
of cuftom, there was a propriety in the character
which cuftom had taught us to allot to each profef-
fion. We cannot complain, therefore, in this cafe,
that the perverfion of natural fentiment is very great.
Though the manners of different nations require dif-
ferent degrees of the fame quality, in the character
which they think worthy of efteem, yet the word
that can be faid to happen even here, is that the du-
ties of one virtue are fometimes extended fo as to en-
croach a little upon the precincts of fome other.
The ruftic hofpitality that is in fafhion among the
Poles encroaches, perhaps, a little upon ceconomy
and good order ; and the frugality that is efteemed
in Holland, upon generofity and good-fellowfhip.
The hardinefs demanded of favages diminifhes their
humanity ; and, perhaps, the delicate fenfibility re-
quired in civilized nations fometimes deftroys the
mafculine firmnefs of the character. In general, the
ftyle of manners which takes place in any nation,
may commonly upon the whole be faid to be that
which is mod fuitable to its fuuation. Hardinefs is
the character mo/t fuitable to the circumftances of a
favage -, fenfibility to thofe of one who lives in a very
civilized focie/y. Even here, therefore, we cannot
complain that the moral fentiments of men are very
grofsly perverted.
It is not therefore in the general ftyle of conduct
or behaviour that cuftom authorizes the wideft depar-
ture from what is the natural propriety of action.
With regard to particular ufages its influence is often
much more deftructive of good morals, and it is ca-
pable of eftabliftiing, as lawful and blamelefs, par-
ticular actions, which (hock the plained principles
of right and wrong.
Can
288 0//^Inflvence Part V.
Can there be greater barbarity, for example, than
to hurt an infant? Its helpleflhefs, its innocence,
its amiablenefs, call forth the compaflion even of
an enemy, and not to fpare that tender age is re-
garded as the molt furious effort of an enraged and
cruel conqueror. What then mould we imagine
mull be the heart of a parent who could injure that
weaknefs which even a furious enemy is afraid to vio-
late ? Yet the expofition, that is, the murder of new-
born infants, was a practice allowed of in almoft all
the dates of Greece, even among the polite and civi-
lized Athenians-, and whenever the circurnftances
of the parent rendered it inconvenient to bring up the
child, to abandon it to hunger, or to wild beads,
was regarded without blame or cenfure. This prac-
tice had probably begun in times of the mod favage
barbarity. The imaginations of men had been fir ft
made familiar with it in that earlieft period of focie-
ty, and the uniform continuance of the cuftom had
hindered them afterwards from perceiving its enor-
mity. We find, at this day, that this practice pre-
vails among; all favage nations : and in that rtideft
and lowed date of fociety it is undoubtedly more
pardonable than in any other. The extreme indi-
gence of a favage is often fuch that he himfelf is fre-
quently expofed to the greated extremity of hunger,
he often dies of pure want, and it is frequently im-
poflible for him to fupport both himfelf and his
child. We cannot wonder, therefore, that in this
cafe he mould* abandon it. One who in flying from
an. enemy, whom it was impoflible torefift, fliould'
throw down his infant, becaufe it retarded his flight,
would furely be excufeable ; fince, by attempting to
fave it, he could orTiy hope for the confolation of
dying
Chap. lJ. of C u s t o m. 289
dying with it. That in this ftate of fociety, there-
fore, a parent fhould be allowed to judge whether he
can bring up his child, ought not to furprife us fo
greatly. In the latter ages of Greece, however, the
fame thing was permitted from views of remote in-
tereft or conveniency, which could by no means ex-
cufe it. Uninterrupted cuftom had by this time fo
thoroughly authorized the practice, that not only the
loofe maxims of the world tolerated this barbarous
prerogative, but even the doctrine of philofophers,
which ought to have been more juft and accurate,
was led away by the eftabiifried cuftom, and upon
this, as upon many other occafions, inftead of
cenfuring, Supported the horrible abufe, by far-
fetched confederations of public utility. Ariftotle
talks of it as of what the magistrate ought upon
many occafions to encourage. The humane Plato
is of the fame opinion, and, with all that love
of mankind which feems to animate all his writ-
ings, no where marks this practice with difappro-
bation. When cuftom can give fanction to fo dread-
ful a violation of humanity, we may well imagine
that there is fcarce any particular practice fo grofs
which it cannot authorize. Such a thing, we hear
men every day faying, is commonly done, and they
feem to think this a fufficient apology for what,
in itfelf, is the molt unjuft and unreasonable con-
dud.
There is an obvious reafon why cuftom mould
never pervert our fentiments with regard to the
general ftyle and character of conduct and behavi-
our, in the fame degree as with regard to the pro-
priety, or unlawfulnefs of particular ufages. There
U never
290 Of the Influence, &c. Part V.
never can be any fuch cuftom. No fociety could
fubfift a moment, in which the ufual drain of mens
conduct and behaviour was of a piece with the hor-
rible practice I juft now mentioned.
ttNy-^HMPP
1
PART
PART VI.
Of Syftems of Moral Philosophy.
CONSISTING OF FOUR SECTIONS.
SECTION I.
Of the queftions which ought to be examined in a
theory of moral fentiments.
IF we examine the moft celebrated and remarka-
ble of the different theories which have been given
concerning the nature and origin of our moral fenti-
ments, we fnall find that almoft all of them coincide
with fome part or other of that which I have been
endeavouring to give an account of; and that if
every thing which has already been faid be fully con-
fidered, we fhall be at no lofs to explain what was
the view or afpect of nature which led each particu-
lar author to form his particular fyftem. From fome
one or other of thofe principles which I have been
endeavouring to unfold, every fyftem of morality
that ever had any reputation in the world has, per-
haps, ultimately been derived. As they are all of
them, in this refpecl, founded upon natural princi-
ples, they are all of them in fome meafure in the
right. But as many of them are derived from a par-
U % tiai
292 O/Systems Part VL
tial and imperfect view of nature, there are many of
them too in fome refpects in the wrong.
In treating of the principles of morals there are
two queftions to be confidered. Firft, wherein does
virtue confift ? Or what is the tone of temper, and
tenour of conduct, which constitutes the excellent
and praife-worthy character, the character which is
the natural object of efteem, honour, and approba-
tion ? and fecondly, by what power or faculty in the
mind is it, that this character, whatever it be, is re-
commended to us ? Or in other words, how and by
what means does it come to pafs, that the mind
prefers one tenour of conduct to another, denomi-
nates the one right and the other wrong ; confiders
the one as the object of approbation, honour, and
reward, and the other of blame, cenfure, and pu-
nifhment ?
"We examine the firft queftion when we confider
whether virtue confifts in benevolence, as Dr. Hutche-
fon imagines ; or in acting iuitably to the different
relations we ftand in, as Dr. Clarke fuppofes ; or in
the wife and prudent purfuit of our own real and fo-
lid happinefs, as has been the opinion of others.
We examine the fecond queftion, when we con-
fider, whether the virtuous character, whatever it
confifts in, be recommended to us by felf-love,
which makes us perceive that this character, both in
ourfelves and others, tends mod to promote our own
private intereft ; or by reafon, which points out to us
the difference between one character and another, in
the fame manner as it does that between truth and
falfehoodj or by^ii peculiar power of perception,
called
Sed. I. <?/ Moral Philosophy. 293
called a moral fenfe, which this virtuous character
gratifies and pleafes, as the contrary difgufts and
difpleafes it ; or laft of all, by fome other principle
in human nature, fuch as a modification of fympa-
thy, or the like.
I fhall begin with confidering the fyflems which
have been formed concerning the firft of thefe ques-
tions, and fhall proceed afterwards to examine thofe
concerning the fecond.
j.4. i
U 2 SEC-
294 0/ S y s t e m s Part VI
SECTION II.
Of the different accounts which have been given
of the nature of virtue.
INTRODUCTION,
T,
H E different accounts which have been given
of the nature of virtue, or of the temper of mind
which conftitutes the excellent and praife-worthy
character, may be reduced to three different claffes.
According to fome, the virtuous temper of mind
does not confift in any one fpecies of affections, but
in the proper government and direction of all our af-
fections, which may be either virtuous or vicious ac-
cording to the objects which they purfue, and the
degree of vehemence with which they purfue them.
According to thefe authors, therefore, virtue con-
fifts in propriety.
According to others, virtue confifts in the judici-
ous purfuit of our own private jntereft and happi-
neis, or in the proper government and direction of
thofe felfifh affections which aim folely at this end.
In the opinion of thefe authors, therefore, virtue
confifts in prudence.
Another fet of authors make virtue confift in
thofe affections only which aim at the happinefs of
others, not in thofe which aim at our own. Ac-
cording to them, therefore, difinterefted benevolence
is
Sect. II. ^ Moral Philosophy. 295
is the only motive which can ftamp upon any action
the character of virtue.
The character of virtue, it is evident, muft either
be afcribed indifferently to all our affections, when
under proper government and direction •, or it muft
be confined to fome one clafs or divifion of them.
The great divifion of our affections is into the felfilh
and the benevolent. If the character of virtue,
therefore, cannot be afcribed indifferently to all our
affections, when under proper government and di-
rection, it muft be confined either to thofe which aim
directly at our own private happinefs, or to thofe which
aim directly at that of others. If virtue, therefore,
does not confift in propriety, it muft confift either in
prudence or in benevolence. Befides thefe three, it
is fcarce poflible to imagine that any other account
can be given of the nature of virtue. I fhall endea-
vour to fhew hereafter how all the other accounts,
which are feemingly different from any of thefe,
coincide at bottom with fome one or other of them.
CHAP. I.
Of thofe fyftems which make virtue confift in pro-
priety.
A
CCORDING to Plato, to Ariftotle, and to
Zeno, virtue confifts in the propriety of conduct, or
in the fuitablenefs of the affection from which we act
to the object which excites it.
I. In the fyftem of Plato * the foul is confidered
as fomething like a little ftate or republic, compofed
of three different faculties or orders,
U 4 The
* $ee Plato de Rep. lib. iy.
296 O/Systems Part VI.
The firft is the judging faculty, the faculty which
determines not only what are the proper means for at-
taining any end, but alfo what ends are fit to be pur-
fued, and what degree of relative value we ought to
put upon each. This faculty Plato called, as it is
very properly called reafon, and confidered it as
what had a right to be ^the governing principle of
the whole. Under this appellation, it is evident, he
comprehended not only that faculty by which we
judge of truth and falfehood, but that by which we
judge of the propriety or impropriety of defires and
affections.
The different paflions and appetites, the natural
fubject of this ruling principle, but which are fo apt
to rebel againft their matter, he reduced to two dif-
ferent clafies or orders. The firft confided of thole
paftions, which are founded in pride and refentment,
or in what the fchoolmen called the irafcible part of
fhe foul ; ambition, animofity, the love of honour,
and the dread of fhame, the defire of victory, fu-
periority, and revenge •, all thofe pafiions, in fhort,
which are fuppofed either to rife from, or to denote
what, by a metaphor in our language, we commonly
call fpirit or natural fire. The fecond confided of
thofe paffions which are founded in the love of plea-
fure, or in what the fchoolmen called the concupif-
cible part of the foul. It comprehended all the appe-
tites of the body, the love of eafe and fecurity, and
of all fenfual gratifications.
It rarely happens that we break in upon that plan
of conduct, which the governing principle prefcribes,
and which in all our cool hours we had laid down to
ouriclves as what was molt proper for us to purfue,
but
Se<5b. II. 0/ Moral Philosophy. 297
but when prompted by one or other of thofe two
different fets of paflions -, either by ungovernable
ambition and refentment, or by the importunate ib-
licitations of prefent eale and plealure. But though
thefe two orders of paflions are fo apt to miflead us,
they are (till confidered as neceflary parts of human
natur'e : the fir ft having been given to defend us
againft injuries, to aflfert our rank and dignity in the
world, to make us aim at what is noble and ho-
nourable, and to make us diftinguifh thofe who act
in the fame manner ; the fecond to provide for the
fupport and nccefiities of the body.
In the ftrength, acutenefs, and perfection of the
governing principle was placed the eflential virtue of
prudence, which, according to Plato, confifted in a
juft and clear difcernment, founded upon general
and fcientific ideas, of the ends which were proper to
be purfued, and of the means which were proper for
attaining them.
When thefirfl fet of paflions, thofe of the irafcible
part of the foul, had that degree of ftrength and
ntmnefs, which enabled them, under the direction
of reafon, to defpife all dangers in the purfuit of
what was honourable and noble ; it conftituted the
virtue of fortitude and magnanimity. This order of
paflions, according to this fyftem, was of a more ge-
nerous and noble nature than the other. They were
confidered upon many occafions as the auxiliaries of
reafon, to check and reftrain the inferior and brutal
appetites. We are often angry at ourfelves, it was
obferved, we often become the objects of our own re-
fentment and indignation, when the love of pleafure
prompts to do what we difapprove of 5 and the irafci-
ble
2o8 of Systems Part VI.
ble part of our nature is in this manner called in to
aiTift the rational againft the concupifcibie.
When all thofe three different parts of our nature
were in perfect concord with one another, when neither
the irafcible nor concupifcibie paiTions ever aimed at
any gratification which reafon did not approve of,
and when reafon never commanded any thing, but
what thefe of their own accord were willing to per-
form ; this happy compofure, this perfect and com-
plete harmony of foul, conftituted that virtue which
in their language is exprefTed by a word which we
commonly tranflate temperance, but which might
more properly be tranflated good temper, or fobriety
and moderation of mind.
Juftice, the laft and greateft of the four cardinal
virtues, took place, according to this fyftem, when
each of thofe three faculties of the mind confined it-
felf to its proper office, without attempting to en-
croach upon that of any other*, when reafon directed
and paflion obeyed, and when each pailion perform-
ed its proper duty, and exerted itfelf towards its
proper object eafdy and without reluctance, and with
that degree of force and energy, which was fuitable
to the value of what it purfued. In this confided
that complete virtue, that perfect propriety of con-
duct, which Plato, after fome of the ancient Pythago-
reans, denominated Juftice.
the word, ft is to be obferved, which expreffes juf-
tice in the Greek lansuaor, has feveral different mean-
ings j and as the correfpondent word in ail other lan-
guages, fo far as 1 know, has the fame, there muft be
fome natural affinity among thofe various fignifkations.
in
5ect. II. of Moral Philosophy. 299
In onefenfe we are laid to do juftice to our neigh-
bour when we abftain from doing him any pofitive
harm, and do not directly hurt him, either in his
perfon, or in his eftate, or in his reputation. This
is thatjudice which I have treated of above, the ob-
fervance of which may be extorted by force, and the
violation of which expofes to punifhment. In ano-
ther fenfe we are faid not to do judice to our neigh-
bour unlefs we conceive for him all that love, refpect
and edeem, which his character, his fuuation, and
his connexion with ourfelves, render fuitable and
proper for us to feel, and unlefs we act according-
ly. It is in this fenfe that we are faid to do injuRice
to a man of merit who is connected with us, tho'
we abftain from hurting him in every refpect, if we
do not exert ourfelves to ferve him and to place him
in that fuuation in which the impartial fpectator
would be pleafed to fee him. The fird fenfe of the
word coincides with what Aridotle and the School-
men call commutative juliice, and with what Gro-
tius calls the j 'uji itia expletrix, which confids in ab-
flaining from what is another's, and in doing volun-
tarily whatever we can with propriety be forced to
do. The fecond fenfe of the word coincides with
what fome have called didributive judice*, and with
xhejujlitia attributrix of Grotius, which conlifts in
proper beneficence, in the becoming ufe of what is
our own, and in the applying it to thofe purpoies
either of charity or generolity, to which it is mod
fuitable, in our fuuation, that it mould be applied.
In this fenfe judice comprehends all the focial virtues.
' There
* The diftributive juftice of Ariftotle is fomewhat different.
It confifts in the proper diftribution of rewards from the public
flock of a community. See Ariftotle Ethic. Nic. 1. 5. c. .?.
joo Of Systems Part VL
There is yet another fenfe in which the word juftice
is fometimes taken, (till more extenfive than either
of the former, though very much a-kin to the laft j
and which runs too, fo far as I know, through all
languages. It is in this lad fenfe that we are faid to
beunjuft, when we do not feem to value any parti-
cular object with that degree of efteem, or to purfue
it with that degree of ardour which to the impartial
fpectator it may appear to deferve or to be naturally
fitted for exciting. Thus we are faid to do injuftice
to a poem or a picture, when we do not admire them
enough, and we are faid to do them more than juftice
when we admire them too much. In the fame man-
ner we are faid to do injuftice to ourfelves when we
appear not to give fufricient attention to any particu-
lar object of felf-intereft. In this laft fenfe, what is
called juftice means the fame thing with exact and
perfect propriety of conduct and behaviour, and com-
prehends in it, not only the offices of both commu-
tative and distributive juftice, but of every other vir-
tue, of prudence, of fortitude, of temperance. It is in
this laft fenfe that Plato evidently underftands what
he calls juftice, and which, therefore, according to
him, comprehends in it the perfection of every fort
of virtue.
Such is the account given by Plato of the nature
of virtue, or of that temper of mind which is the
proper object of praife and approbation. It confifts,
according to him, in that ftate of mind in which eve-
ry faculty confines itfelf within its proper fphere
without encroaching upon that of any other, and
performs its proper office with that precife degree of
ftrength and vigour which belongs to it. His ac-
count, it is evident^ coincides in every refpect with
what
Sect. II. of Moral Philosophy. 301
what we have faid above concerning the propriety of
conduct.
II. Virtue, according to Ariftotle *, confifts in
the habit of mediocrity according to right reafon.
Every particular virtue, according to him, lies in a
kind of middle between two oppolite vices, of which
the one offends from being too much, the other from
being too little affected by a particular fpecies of ob-
jects. Thus the virtue of fortitude or courage lies
in the middle between the oppofite vices of cowardice
and of prefumptuous rafhnefs, of which the one
offends from being too much, and the other from be-
ing too little affected by the objects of fear. Thus
too the virtue of frugality lies in a middle between
avarice and profufion, of which the one confifts in an
excefs, the other in a defect of the proper attention
to the objects of felf-intereft. Magnanimity, in the
fame manner, lies in a middle between the excefs of
arrogance and the defect of pufillanimity, of which,
the one confifts in too extravagant, the other in too
weak a fentiment of our own worth and dignity. It
is unneceffary to obferve that this account of virtue
correfponds too pretty exactly with what has been
faid above concerning the propriety and impropriety
of conduct.
According to Ariftotle f , indeed, virtue did not
fo much confift: in thofe moderate and right affecti-
ons, as in the habit of this moderation. In order to
underftand this, it is to be obferved, that virtue may
be confidered either as the quality of an action, or
as
* See Ariftotle Ethic. Nic. I. 2. c. 5. et feq. et I. 3. c 5. et
'feq.
f See Ariftotle Ethic. Nic. lib. ii. ch. 1 2. 3. and 4.
302 0/Systems Part VI.
as the quality of a perfon. Confidered as the qua-
lity of an action, it coniifts, even according to Arif-
totle, in the reafonable moderation of the affection
from which the action proceeds, whether this difpo-
ikion be habitual to the perion or not. Confidered
as the quality of a perfon, it confifts in the habit of
this reafonable moderation, in its having become the
cuiiomary and ufual difpofition of the mind. Thus
the action which proceeds from an occafional fit of
generality is undoubtedly a generous action, but the
man who performs it, is not necefTarily a generous
perfon, becaufe it may be the fingle action of the
kind which he ever performed. The motive and
difpofition of heart, from which this action was per-
formed, may have been quite juft and proper : but
as this happy mood feems to have been the effect
rather of accidental humour than of any thing fteady
or permanent in the character, it can reflect no great
honour on the performer. When we denominate a
character generous or charitable, or virtuous in any
refpect, we mean to fignify that the difpofition ex-
preffed by each of thofe appellations is the ufual
and cuftomary difpofition of the perfon. But fingle
actions 'of any kind, how proper and fuitable foever,
are of little confequence to fhow that this is the cafe.
If a fingle action was fufficient to (lamp the character
of any virtue upon the perfon who performed it, the
mod worthlefs of mankind might lay claim to all the
virtues ; fince there is no man who has not, upon
fome occafions, acted with prudence, juftice, tem-
perance, and fortitude. But though fingle actions,
how laudable foever, reflect very little praife upon
the perfon who performs them, a fingle vicious action
performed by one wtjofe conduct is ufually very re-
gular, greatly diminifhes and fometimes deflroys al-
together
Se6t.IL ^/ Moral Philosophy. 303
together our opinion of his virtue. A Tingle action
of this kind fufficiently fhows that his habits are not
perfect, and that he is lefs to be depended upon,
than, from the ufual train of his behaviour, we
might have been apt to imagine.
Ariftotle too *, when he made virtue to confift in
practical habits, had it probably in his view to op-
pofe the doctrine of Plato, who feems to have been
of opinion that juft fentiments and reafonable judg-
ments concerning what was fit to be done or to be
avoided, were alone fufficient to conftitute the moll
perfect virtue. Virtue, according to Plato, might
be confidered as a fpecies of fcience, and no man, he
thought, could fee clearly and demonftratively what
was right and what was wrong, and not act accord-
ingly. Paflion might make us act contrary to doubt-
ful and uncertain opinions, not to plain and evident
judgments. Ariftotle, on the contrary, was of opi-
nion, that no conviction of the underftanding was
capable of getting the better of inveterate habits,
and that good morals arofe not from knowledge but
from action.
III. According to Zeno +, the founder of the
ftoical doctrine, every animal was by nature recom-
mended to its own care, and was endowed with the
principle of felf-love, that it might endeavour to
preferve, not only its exiftence, but all the different
parts of its nature, in the bell and mod perfedl ftate
of which they were capable.
The
* See Ariftotle Mag. Mor. lib. i. ch. I.
t See Cicero de finibus, lib. iii. alfo Diogenes Laertius in
Zenone, lib, vii. fegment 84.
3C4 , Of S y s t £ m s Part VL
The felf love of man embraced, if I may fay fo,
his body and all its different members, his mind and
all its different faculties and powers, and defired the
prefervation and maintenance of them all in their
belt and moft perfect condition. Whatever tended
to fupport this ftate of existence was, therefore, by
nature pointed out to him as fit to be cholen ; and
whatever tended to deitroy it, as fit to be rejected.
Thus health, ftrength, agility, and eafe of body, as
well as the external conveniences which could pro-
mote theie, wealth, power, honours, the refpect and
efteem of thofe we live with, were naturally pointed
out to us as things eligible, and of which the pofTef-
fion was preferable to the contrary. On the other
hand, ficknefs, infirmity, unwieldinefs, pain of body,
as well as all the external inconveniencies which
tended to occafion or bring on any of them, poverty,
the want of authority, the contempt or hatred of
thofe we live with •, were, in the fame manner, pointed
out to us as things to be fhunned and avoided. In
each of thofe two different claffes of objects there
were fome which appeared to be more the objects
either of choice or rejection than others in the fame
clafs. Thus, in the nrfl clafs, health appeared evi-
dently preferable to ftrength, and ftrength to agility ;
reputation to power, and power to riches. And thus
too, in the fecond clafs, ficknefs was more to be
avoided than unwieldinefs of body, ignominy than
poverty, and poverty than the want of authority.
Virtue and the propriety of conduct conftfted in
choofing and rejeding all different objects and cir-
cumftances according as they were by nature rendered
more or lefs the objects of choice or rejection; in
felefting always from among the feveral objects of
choice prefented tcTus, that which was moft to be
chofen,
Sect. II. <?/ Moral Philosophy, 305
chofen, when we could not obtain them all : and in
felecting too out of the feveral objects of rejection
offered to us, that which was leaft to be avoided,
when it was not in our power to avoid them all. By
choofing and rejecting with this juft and accurate dis-
cernment, by thus bellowing upon every object the
precife degree of attention it deferved, according to
the place which it held in this natural fcale of things,
we maintained, according to the Stoics, that perfect
rectitude of conduct which conttituted the elTence of
virtue. . This was what they called to live confift-
ently, to live according to nature, and to obey thofe
laws and directions which nature, or the Author of
nature, had prefcribed for our conduct. -
So far the Stoical idea of propriety and virtue is
not very different from that of Ariltotle and the an-
tient peripatetics. What chiefly diftinguifhed thofe
two fyltenvs from one another was the different de-
grees of felf-command which they required. The
peripatetics allowed of fome degree of perturbation
as fuitable to the weaknefs of human nature, and as
ufeful to fo imperfect a creature as man. If his own
misfortunes excited no palTionate grief, if his own in-
juries palled forth no lively refentment, reafon, or a
regard to the general rules which determined what
was right and fit to be done, would commonly, they
thought, be too weak to prompt him to avoid the
one or to beat off the other. The Stoics, on the
contrary, demanded the molt perfect apathy, and re-
garded every emotion which could in the fmalleit de-
gree dilturb the tranquillity of the mind, as the ef-~
feet of levity and folly. The Peripatetics feem to
have thought that no paiTion exceeded the bounds of
propriety as long as the fpectator, by the utmoft ef-
X fort
3©6 Of StsiEMs Part VL
fort of humanity, could fympathize with it. The
Stoics, on the contrary, appear to have regarded
every pafTion as improper, which made any demand
upon the fympathy of the fpectator, or required him
to alter in any refpect the natural and ordinary Hate
of his mind, in order to keep time with the vehe-
mence of its emotions. A man of virtue, they
feem to have thought, ought not to depend upon
the generofity of thofe he lives with for pardon or
approbation.
According to the Stoics, every event ftiould, to
a wife man, appear indifferent, and what for its own
fake could be the object neither of defire, nor aver-
sion, neither of joy, nor forrow. If' he preferred
fome events to others, if fome fituations were the ob-
jects of his choice, and others of his rejection, * it
was not, becaufe he regarded the one as, in them-
felves, in any refpect better than the other, or thought
that his own happinefs would be more complete in,
what is called, the fortunate, than in what is com-
monly regarded as the diflrefsful fituation ; but be-
caufe the propriety of action, the rule which the
gods had given him for the direction of his conduct,
required him to choofe and reject in this manner.
Among the primary objects of natural inclination, or
among thofe things which nature had originally re-
commended to us as eligible, was the profperity, of
our family, of our relations, of our friends, of our
country, of mankind, and of the univerfe in general.
Nature too had taught us that as the profperity of
two
* Some of thefe^exprefiions found a little aukward in the
Englim language : they are literal translations of the technical
terms of the Stoics,
Sedt. II. ^/Moral Philosophy. 307
two was preferable to that of one, that of many or of
all muft be infinitely more fo. That we ourfelves
were but one, and that confequently wherever our
profperity, was inconfiftent with that, either of the
whole, or of any confiderable part of the whole, ic
ought,, even in our own choice, to yield to what was
fo valtly preferable. As all the events in this world
were conducted by the providence of a wife, pow-
erful and good God, we might be aflfured that what-
ever happened, tended to the profperity and perfec-
tion of the whole. If we ourfelves, therefore, were
in poverty, in fickneis, or in any other calamity, we
ought, firft of all, to ufe our utmoft endeavours, fo
far as juftice and our duty to others would allow, to
refcue ourfelves from this difagreeable circumftance.
But if after all we could do, we found this impofTi-
ble, we ought to reft fatisfied that the order and per-
fection of the univerfe required that we mould in the
mean time continue in this fituation. And as the
profperity of the whole mould, even to us, appear
preferable to fo infignificant a part as ourfelves, Our
fituation, whatever it was, ought from that moment
to become the object of our choice, and even of our
defire, if we would maintain that complete propriety
and rectitude of fentiment and conduct in which the
perfection of our nature confifts. If, indeed, any
opportunity of extricating ourfelves (hould offer, it
became our duty to embrace it. The order of the
univerfe, it was evident, no longer required our con-
tinuance in this fituation, and the great director of
the world plainly called upon us to leave it, by fo
clearly pointing out the road which we were to fol-
low. It was the fame cafe with the adverfity of our
relations, our friends, our country, If without vio-
X z lating
jo8 Of Systems Part VL
lating any more facred obligation, it was in our
power to prevent or to put an end to their calamity,,
it undoubtedly was onr duty to do fo. The propri-
ety of ad ion, the rule which Jupiter had given us
for the direction of our conduct, evidently required
this of us. But if it was altogether out of our power
to do either, we ought then to confider this event as
the moft fortunate which could poflibly have hap-
pened : Becaufe we might be aflured that it tended
moft to the proiperity and order of the whole : which
was what we ourfelves, if we were wife and equita-
able, ought moft of all to deiire. " In what fenfe,
€C fays Epi&etus, are fome things faid to be accord-
" inor to our nature, and others contrary to it ? It is
" in that fenfe in which we confider oiiifelves as fe-
" parated and detached from all other things. For
" thus it may be faid to be according to the nature of
cc the foot to be always clean. But if you confider
*6 it as a foot, and not as fomething detached from the
" reft of the body, it muft behove it fometimes to
" trample in the dirt, and fometimes to tread upon
" thorns, and fometimes too to be cut off for the fake
" of the whole body ; and if it refufes this, it is no
" longer a foot. Thus too ought we to conceive
" with regard to ourfelves. What are you ? A man.
" If you confider yourfelf as fomething feparated
<c and detached, it is agreeable to your nature to live
" to old age, to be rich, to be in health. But if you
" confider yourfelf as a man, and as a part of a
" whole, upon account of that whole it will behoove
" you fometimes to be in ficknefs, fometimes to be ex-
" pofed to the inconveniency of a fea voyage, fome-
■ times to be in want ; and at lad, perhaps, to die
" before your tirrfc. "Why then do you complain ?
" Don't
Se&. IT. sf Moral Philosophy. 309
*? Don't you know that by doing fo, as the foot ceaies
" to be a foot, fo you ceafe to be a man ?" *
This fubmiffion to the order of the univerfe, this
entire indifference with regard to whatever concerns
ourfelves, when put into the balance with the intereit
of the whole, could derive its propriety, it is evident,
from no other principle befides that, upon which I
have endeavoured to fhow, the propriety of juitice
was founded. As long as we view our own interefts
with our own eyes, it is fcar.ee poffible that we fhottld
willingly acquiefce in their being thus facrificed to
the interefts of the whole. It is only when we view
thofe oppofite interefts with the eyes of others, that
what concerns ourfelves can appear to be fo con-
temptible in the companion, as to be refigned with-
out any reluctance. To every body but the perfon
principally concerned, nothing can appear more
agreeable to reafon and propriety than that the part
Ihould give place to the whole. But what is agree-
able to the reafon of all other men, ought not to ap-
pear contrary to his. He himfelf therefore ought to
approve of this facrifice, and acknowledge its confor-
mity to reafon. But all the affections of a wife man,
according to the ftoics, are perfectly agreeable to rea-
fon and propriety, and of their own accord coincide
with whatever thefe ruling principles prefcribe. A
wife man, therefore, could never feel any reluctance
to comply with this difpolition of things.
IV. Befides thefe ancient, there are fome modern
fyftems, according to which virtue confifls in propri-
ety j oc in the mitablenefs of the affection from which
X 3 we
* Arrian. lib. II. c. s.
gio Of Systems Part VI
we ad, to the caufe or object which excites it. The
fyftem of Dr. Clarke, which places virtue in acting
according to the relations of things, in regulating
our conduct according to the fitnefs or incongruity
which there may be in the application of certain
actions to certain things, or to certain relations :
That of Mr. Woolafton, which places it in acting ac-
cording to the truth of things, according to their
proper nature and eiTence, or in treating them as
what they really are, and not as what they are not :
tfoat of my lord Shaftefbury, which places it in main-
taining a proper balance of the affections, and in al-
lowing no paifion to go beyond its proper fphere ;
are all of them more or lefs inaccurate defcriptions of
the fame fundamental idea.
The defcription of virtue which is either given,
or at lead meant and intended to be given in each
of thofe fyftems, for fome of the modern authors are
not very fortunate in their manner of exprefiing
themfelves, is no doubt quite juft, fo far as it goes.
There is no virtue without propriety, and wherever
there is propriety, fome degree of approbation is
due. But (till this defcription is imperfect. For
though propriety is an eflential ingredient in every
virtuous action, it is not always the fole ingredient.
Beneficent actions have in them another quality by
which they appear not only to deferve approbation
but recompenfe. None of thofe fyftems account
either eafily or fufficiently for that fuperior degree
of efteem which feems due to fuch actions, or for
that diverfity of fentiment which they naturally ex-
cite. Neither is the defcription of vice more com-
plete. For in the fame manner, though impropriety
is a necelTary ingredient in every vicious action, it is
not
Sect. II. of Moral Philosophy. 311*
not always the fole ingredient, and there is often the
higheft degree of abfurdity and impropriety in very
harmlefs and infignificant actions. Deliberate ani-
ons, of a pernicious tendency to thofe we live with,
have, befides their impropriety, a peculiar quality of
their own by which they appear to deferve, not only
difapprobation, but punifhment ; and to be the ob-
jects, not of diflike merely, but of refentment and
revenge : and none of thofe fyftems eafily and fuffi-
ently account for that fuperior degree of defoliation
which we feel for fuch ad ions.
CHAP. u.
Of thofe fyftems which make virtue confift in pru-
dence.
H E mod ancient of thofe fyftems which make
virtue confift: in prudence, and of which any confi-
derable remains have come down to us, is that of
Epicurus, who is faid, however, to have borrowed
all the leading principles of his philofophy, from
fome of thofe who had gone before him, particularly
from Ariftippus ; though it is very probable, not-
withstanding this allegation of his enemies, that at
lead his manner of applying thofe principles was al-
together his own.
According to Epicurus, * bodily pleafure and
pain were the fole ultimate objects of natural defire
and averfion. That they were always the natural
objects of thofe paffions, he thought required no
X 4 proof.
* See Cicero de finibus, lib. i. Diogenes Laert. 1. x.
312 0/ S y s t e m s Part VI.
proof. Pleafure might, indeed, appear fometimes
to be avoided ; not, however, becaufe it was plea-
fure, but becaufe, by the enjoyment of ir, we mould
either forfeit fome greater pleafure, or expofe our-
felves to fome pain that was more to be avoided than
this pleafure was to be defired. Pain, in the fame
manner, might appear fometimes to be eligible-, not,
however, becaufe it was pain, but becaufe by en-
during it we might either avoid a ftill greater pain,
or acquire fome pleafure of much more importance.
That bodily pain and pleafure, therefore, were al-
ways the natural objects of defire and averlion, was,
he thought, abundantly evident. Nor was it lefs fo,
he imagined, that they were the fole ultimate objects
of thofe paiTions. Whatever elfe was either defired
or avoided was fo, according to him, upon account
of its tendency to produce one or other of thofe fen-
fations. The tendency to procure pleasure rendered
power and riches defirable, as the contrary tendency
to produce pain made poverty and infignificancy the
objects of averfion. Honour and reputation were
valued, becaufe the efteem and love of thofe we live
with were of the greateft confequence both to pro-
cure pleafure and to defend us from pain. Ignominy
and bad fame, on the contrary, were to be avoided,
becaufe the hatred, contempt, and refentment of
thofe we lived with deftroyed all fecurity, and ne-
ceffarily expofed us to the greateft bodily evils.
All the pleafures and pains of the mind were, ac-
cording to Epicurus, ultimately derived from thofe
of the body. The mind was happy when it thought
of the'paft pleafures of the body, and hoped for
others to come : and it was miferable when it thought
^ of
Seel, i I. of Moral Philosophy. 313
of the pains which the body had formerly endured,
and dreaded the fame or greater thereafter.
But the pleafures and pains of the mind, though
ultimately derived from thofe of the body, were
vaftly greater than their originals. The body felt
only the fenfation of the prefent inftant, whereas the
mind felt alfo the paft and the future, the one by
remembrance, the other by anticipation, and confe-
quently both fuffered and enjoyed much more.
When we are under the greateft bodily pain, he ob-
ferved, we mall always find, if we attend to it, that
it is not the fuffering of the prefent inflant which
chiefly torments us, but either the agonizing re-
membrance of the paft, or the yet more horrible dread
of the future. The pain of each inftant, confidered
by itieif, and cut off from all that goes before and all
that comes after it, is a trifle not worth the regard-
ing. Yet this is all which the body can ever be faid
to fuffer. In the fame manner, when we enjoy the
greateft pleafure, we Jhall always find that the bodily
fenfation, the feniation of the prefent inflant makes
but a Imall part of our happinefs, that our enjoy-
ment chiefly arifes either from the cheerful recollec-
tion of the paft, or the ftill more joyous anticipation
of the future, and that the mind always contributes
by much the largeft fhare of the entertainment.
Since our happinefs and mifery, therefore, de-
pended chiefly on the mind, if this part of our na-
ture was well difpofed, if our thoughts and opinions
were as they fhould be, it was of little importance
in what manner our body was affected. Though
under great bodily pain, we might ftill enjoy a con-
fiderable fhare of happinefs, if our reafon and judg-
ment
314 of Systems Part VI/
ment maintained their fuperiority. We might en-
tertain ourfelves with the remembrance of pall, and
with the hopes of future pleafure; we might (often
the rigour of our pains, by recollecting what it was
which, even in this fituation, we were under any ne-
cefiity of fuftering. That this was merely the bodily
fenfation, the pain of the prefent inftant, which by
itfelf could never be very great. That whatever
agony we fuffered from the dread of its continuance
was the effect of an opinion of the mind, which might
be corrected by jufter fentiments ; by confidering
that, if our pains were violent, they would proba-
bly be of fhort duration ; and that if they were of
long continuance, they would probably be moderate,
and admit of many intervals of eafe; and that, at
any rate, death was always at hand and within call
to deliver us, which as, according to him, it put an
end to all fenfation, either of pain or pleafure, could
not be regarded as an evil. When we are, faid he,
death is not ; and when death is, we are not -, death
therefore can be nothing to us.
If the actual fenfation of pofitive pain was in it-
felf fo little to be feared, that of pleafure was ftill
lefs to be defired. Naturally the fenfation of plea-
fure was much lefs pungent than that of pain. If,
therefore, this laft could take fo very little from the
happinefs of a well difpofed mind, the other could
add fcarce any thing to it. When the body was
free from pain and the mind from fear and anxiety,
the fuperadded fenfation of bodily pleafure could be
of very little importance-, and though it might di-
verfify, could not be properly be faid to increafe the
happinefs of this fituation.
In
Sect. II. of Moral Philosophy. 215
In eafe of body, therefore, and in fecurity or tran-
quillity of mind, confided, according to Epicurus,
the moil perfect ftate of human&nature, the moft
complete happinefs which man was capable of en-
joying. To obtain this great end of natural defire
was the fole object of all the virtues, which, accord-
ing to him, were not defirable upon their own ac-
count, but upon account of their tendency to bring
about this fituation.
Prudence, for example, though according to this
philofophy, the fource and principle of all the vir-
tues, was not defirable upon its own account. That
careful and laborious and circumfpect ftate of mind,
ever watchful and ever attentive to the moft diftant
confequences of every action, could ndt be a thing
pleafant or agreeable for its own fake, but upon ac-
count of its tendency to procure the greateft goods
and to keep off the greateft evils.
To abftain from pleafure too, to curb and ref-
train our natural paffions for enjoyment, which was
the office of temperance, could never be defirable
for its own fake. The whole value of this virtue
arofe from its utility, from its enabling us to poft-
pone the prefent enjoyment for the fake of a greater
to come, or to avoid a greater pain that might enfue
from it. Temperance, in fhort, was nothing but
prudence with regard to pleafure.
To fupport labour, to endure pain, to be expofed
to danger or to death, the fituations which fortitude
would often lead us into, were furely (till lefs the
objects of natural defire. They were chofen only to
avoid greater evils. We fubmitted to labour, in or-
der
3x6 Of Systems Part VI.
der to avoid the greater fhame and pain of poverty,
and we expofed ourielves to danger and to death in
defence of our liberty and property, the means and
inftruments of pleafure and happinefs •, or in defence
of our country, in the fafety of which our own was
necefiarily comprehended. Fortitude enabled us to
do all this cheerfully, as the beft which, in our pre-
lent fituation, could poMibly be done, and was in
reality no more than prudence, good judgment, and
prefence of mind in properly appreciating pain, la-
bour, and danger, always choofing the lefs in order
to avoid the greater.
It is the fame cafe with juftice. To abftain from
what is another's was not defirableon its own account,
and it could not furely be better for you, that I
fhould poflefs what is my own, than that you mould
pofieis it. You ought however, to abftain from
whatever belongs to me, becaufe by doing otherwife
you will provoke the refentment and indignation of
mankind. The fecurity and tranquillity of your
mind will be entirely defiroyed. You will be filled
with fear and confirmation at the thought of that
punifhment which you will imagine that men are at
all times ready to inflict upon you, and from which
no power, no art, no concealment, will ever, in your
own fancy, be fufficient to protect you. That other
fpecies of juftice which confifts in doing proper good
offices to different perfons, according to the various
relations of neighbours, kinfmen, friends, benefac-
tors, fuperiors, or equals, which they may ftand in
to us, is recommended by the fame reafons. To act
properly in all thefe different relations procures us
the efteem and love of thofe we live with ; as to do
otherwife excites th*ir contempt and hatred. By the
one
Sect. II. c/ Moral Philosophy. bip
one we naturally fecure, by the other we neceflarily
endanger our own eafe and tranquillity, the great and
ultimate objects of all our defires. The whole virtue
of juftice, therefore, the moil important of all the
virtues, is no more than difcreet and prudent con-
duct with regard to our neighbours.
Such is the doctrine of Epicurus concerning the
nature of virtue. It may feem extraordinary that
this philofopher, who is defcribed as a perfon of the
mod amiable manners, mould never have obferved,
that, whatever may be the tendency of thofe virtues,
or of the contrary vices, with regard to our bodily
eafe and fecurity, thr fentiments which they natural-
ly excite in others are the objects of a much more
paflionate defire or averfion than all their other con-
fequences ; That to be amiable, to be refpectable,
to be the proper object of efteem, is by every well-
difpofed mind more valued than all the eafe and fecu-
rity which love, refpect, and efteem can procure us \
That, on the contrary, to be odious, to be contempti-
ble, to be the proper object of indignation, is more
dreadful than all that we can fuffer in our body from
hatred, contempt, or indignation •, and that confe-
quently our defire of the one character, and our aver-
fion to the other, cannot arile from any regard to the
effects which either of them is likely to produce upon
the body.
This fyftem is, no doubt, altogether inconfiftent
with that which I have been endeavouring to efta-
blifh. It is not difficult, however, to difcover from
what phafis, if I may fay fo, from what particular
view or afpect of nature, this account of things de-
rives its probability. By the wife contrivance of the
Author
3i8 O/Systems Part VI.
Author of nature, virtue is upon all ordinary occafi-
ons, ever, with regard to this lifey real wifdom, and
the fureft and readied means of obtaining both fafety
and advantage. Our fuccefs or difappointment in
our undertakings muft very much depend upon the
good or bad opinion which is commonly entertained
of us, and upon the general difpofuion of thofe we
live with, either to affift or to oppofe us. But the
belt, the fureft, the eafieft, and the readied way of
obtaining the advantageous and of avoiding the un-
favourable judgments of others, is undoubtedly to
render ourfelves the proper objects of the former and
not of the latter. " Do you dtiiic, faid Socrates,
" the reputation of a good mufician ? The only fure
" way of obtaining it, is to become a good mufician.
" Would you defire in the fame manner to be thought
" capable of ferving your country either as a general
" or as a ftatefman ? The bed way in this cafe too
" is really to acquire the art and experience of war
" and government, and to become really fit to be a
" general or a ftatefman. And in the fame manner
"if you would be reckoned fober, temperate, ju ft,
M and equitable, the beft way of acquiring this re-
** putation is to become fober, temperate, juft, and
" equitable. If you can really render yourfelf amia-
" ble, refpectable, and the proper object of efteem,
" there is no fear of your not foon acquiring the love,
" the refpect, and efteem of thofe you live with."
Since the practice of virtue, therefore, is in general
fo advantageous, and that of vice lb contrary to our
intereft, the confideration of thofe oppofite tenden-
cies undoubtedly flamps an additional beauty and
propriety upon the one, and a new deformity and
impropriety upon tfre other. Temperance, mag-
nanimitv, juftice, and beneficence, come thus to
be
Sed. II. of Moral Philosophy. 319
be approved of, not only under their proper charac-
ters, but under the additional character of the higheft
wifdom and mod real prudence. And in the fame
manner the contrary vices of intemperance, pufilla-
nimity, injuftice, and either malevolence or fordid
felfifhnefs, come to be difapproved of, not only un-
der their proper characters, but under the additional
character of the moft fhort-fighted folly and weak-
nefs. Epicurus appears in every virtue to have at-
tended to this fpecies of propriety only. It is that
which is moft apt to occur to thofe who are endea-
vouring to perfuade others to regularity of conduct.
When men by their practice, and perhaps too by
their maxims, manifeftly fhow that the natural beauty
of virtue is not like to have much effect upon them,
how is it poflible to move them but by reprefenting
the folly of their conduct, and how much they them-
felves are in the end likely to fuffer by it ?
By running up all the different virtues too to this
one fpecies of propriety, Epicurus indulged a propen-
fity, which is natural to all men, but which philofo-
phers in particular are apt to cultivate with a pecu-
liar fondnefs, as the great means of difplaying their
ingenuity, the propenfity to account for all appear-
ances from as few principles as poflible. And he,
no doubt, indulged this propenfity flill further, when
he referred all the primary objects of natural defire
and averfion to the pleafures and pains of the body.
The great patron of the atomical philofophy, who
took fo much pleafure in deducing all the powers and
qualities of bodies from the moft obvious and fami-
liar, the figure, motion, and arrangement of the
fmall parts of matter, felt no doubt a fimilar fatis-
kction, when he accounted, in the fame manner, for
all
3'2o Of S y s t £ u a Part VI.
all the fentiments and pafiions of the mind from thofe
which are molt obvious and familiar.
The fyftem of Epicurus agreed with thofe of Pla-
to, Arifiotle, and Zeno, in making virtue confift in
acting in the mod fuitable manner to obtain the *
primary objects of natural defire. It differed from
all of them in two other refpects ; firit, in the account
which it gave of thofe primary objects of natural de-
lire; and fecondly, in the account which it gave of
the excellence of virtue, or of the reafon why thai:
quality ought to be efteemed.
The primary objects of natural defire confided,
according to Epicurus, in bodily pleafure and pain,
and in nothing elfe : whereas, according to the other
three philofophers, there were many other objects,
fuch as knowledge, fuch as the happinefs of our re-
lations, of our friends, of our country, which were
ultimately defirable for their own fakes.
Virtue too, according to Epicurus, did not deferve
to be purfued for its own fake, nor was itfelf one
of the ultimate objects of natural appetite, but was
eligible only upon account of its tendency to prevent
pain and to procure eafe and pleafure. In the opinion
of the other three, on the contrary, it was defirable,
not merely as the means of procuring the other pri-
mary objects of natural defire, but as fomething
which was in itfelf more valuable than them all.
Man, they thought, being born for adion, his hap-
pinefs mult confift, not merely in the agreeablenefs
of hispaffive fenfations, but alfo in the propriety of
his active exertions.
CHAP.
* Prima naturse.
Sect. Ik of Moral Philosophy^ p,i
CHAP. III.
Of thofe fyftems tvhicb make virtue conjift in bene-
volence.
JL H E fyfiem which makes virtue confift in bene-
volence, though I think not fo ancient as all of thofe
which I have already given an account of, is, how-
ever, of very great antiquity. It feems to have been
the doctrine of the greater part of thofe philofophers
who, about and after the age of Auguftus, called
themfelves Eclectics, who pretended to follow chiefly
the opinions of Plato and Pythagoras, and who upon
that account are commonly known by the name of
the later Platonifts;
In the divine nature, according td thefe authors,
benevolence or love was the fole principle of action*
and directed the exertion of all the other attributes.
The wifdom of the Deity was employed in finding
out the means for bringing about thofe ends which
his goodnefs fuggefted, as his infinite power was ex-
erted to execute them. Benevolence, however* was
ltill the fupreme and governing attribute* to which
the others were fubfervient, and from which the whole
excellency, or the whole morality, if I may be al-
lowed fuch an expreflion, of the divine operations*
was ultimately derived. The whole perfection and
virtue of the human mind confided in fome refem-
blance or participation of the divine perfections, and,
confequently, in being filled with the fame principle
Y it
322 0/ S y s t e m s Part VL
of benevolence and love which influenced all the acti-
ons of the deity. The actions of men which flowed
from this motive were alone truly praife- worthy, or
could claim any merit in the fight of the deity. It
was by actions of charity and love only that we
could imitate, as became us, the conduct of God,
that we could exprefs our humble and devout admi-
ration of his infinite perfections, that by foftering in
our own minds the fame divine principle, we could
bring our own affections to a greater refemblance
with his holy attributes, and thereby become more
proper objects of his love and efteem j till at laft we
arrived at that immediate converfe and communica-
tion with the deity to which it was the great object of
this philofophy to raife us.
This fyflem, as it was much efteemed by many
ancient fathers of the chriftian church, fo aftw the
reformation it was adopted by feveral divines of the
moft eminent piety and learning, and of the moft
amiable manners ; particularly, by Dr. Ralph Cud-
worth, by Dr. Henry More, and by Mr. John Smith
of Cambridge. But of all the patrons of this fyflem,
ancient or modern, the late Dr. Hutchefon, was un-
doubtedly beyond all comparifon, the moft: acute,
the moft diftinct, the moft philofophical, and what
is of th£ greateft confequence of all, the fobereft and
moft judicious.
That virtue confifts in benevolence is a notion
fupported by many appearances in human nature*
It has been obferved already that proper benevo-
lence is the moft graceful and agreeable of all the
affections, that iuis recommended to us by a double
fympathy, that as its tendency is necefTarily benefi-
cent,
Sect. II. of Moral Philosophy. 32-3
cent, it is the proper object of gratitude and reward,
and that upon all thefe accounts it appears to our
natural fentiments to poffefs a merit fuperior to any
other. It has been obferved too that even the weak-
nefTes of benevolence are not very difagreeable to us,
whereas thofe of every other paffion are always ex-
tremely difgufting. Who does not abhor exceflive
malice, exceflive felfifhnefs, or exceflive refentment ?
But the moft exceflive indulgence even of partial
friendfhip is not fo offenfive. It is the benevolent
paflions only which can exert themfelves without
any regard or attention to propriety, and yet retain
fomething about them which is engaging. There is
fomething pleafing even in mere inftinctive good-
will which goes on to do good offices without once
reflecting whether by this conduct it is the proper
object either of blame or approbation. It is not fa
with the other paflions. The moment they are de-
ferted, the moment they arc unaccompanied by the
fenfe of propriety, they ceafe to be agreeable.
As benevolence beftows upon thofe actions which
proceed from it, a beauty fuperior to all others, fo
the want of it, and much more the contrary inclina*
tion, communicates a peculiar deformity to whatever
evidences fuch a difpofnion. Pernicious actions are
often punifhable for no other reafon than becaufe they
fhow a want of fufficient attention to the happinefs
of our neighbour.
Befides all this, Dr. Hutchefon * obferved, that
whenever in any action, fuppofed to proceed from
benevolent affections, fome other motive had been
Y 2 discovered*
* See Inquiry concerning virtue, feet. 1, *nd **.
324 Of Systems Part VI.
difcovered, our fenfe of the merit of this action was
juft fo far diminifhed as this motive was believed to
have influenced it. If an action, fuppofed to proceed
from gratitude, fhould be difcovered to have arifen from
an expectation of fome new favour, or if what was
apprehended to proceed from public fpirit, mould be
found out to have taken its origin from the hope of
a pecuniary reward, fuch a difcovery would entirely
deftroy all notion of merit or praife-worthinefs in
either of thefe actions. Since, therefore, the mixture
of any felfifh motive, like that of a bafe alloy, di-
minifhed or took away altogether the merit which
would otherwife have belonged to any action, it was
evident, he imagined, that virtue muft confift in pure
and difinterefted benevolence alone.
When thofe actions, on the contrary, which are
commonly fuppofed to proceed from a felfifh motive,
are difcovered to have arifen from a benevolent one,
it greatly enhances our fenfe of their merit. If we
believed of any perfon that he endeavoured to ad-
vance his fortune from no other view but that of do-
ing friendly offices, and of making proper returns to
his benefactors, we fhould only love and efteem him
the more. And this obfervation feemed (till more to
confirm the conclufion, that it was benevolence only
which could ftamp upon any action the character of
virtue.
Laft of all, what, he imagined, was an evident
proof of the juftnefs of this account of virtue, in all
the difputes of cafuifts concerning the rectitude of
conduct, the public good, he obferved, was the
ftandard to whicl> they conftantly referred ; thereby
univerfally acknowledging that whatever tended to
promote
Sect. IT. c/ Moral Philosophy. 325
promote the happinefs of mankind was right and
laudable and virtuous, and the contrary, wrong,
blameable, and vicious. In the late debates about
pafilve obedience and the right of refiftance, the fole
point in controverfy among men of fenfe was, whe-
ther univerfal fubmifiion would probably be attended
with greater evils than temporary infurre&ions when
privileges were invaded. Whether what, upon the
whole, tended moft to the happinefs of mankind,
was not alfo morally good, was never once, he faid,
made a queftion.
Since benevolence, ther efore, was the only mo-
tive which could beftow upon any action the charac-
ter of virtue, the greater the benevolence which was
evidenced by any action, the greater the praife which
mull belong to it.
Thofe actions which aimed at the happinefs of a
great community, as they demonftrated a more en-
larged benevolence than thofe which aimed only at
that of a fmaller fyftem, fo were they, likewife, pro-
portionally the more virtuous. The moft virtuous
of all affections, therefore, was that which embraced
as its object the happinefs of all intelligent beings.
The leaft virtuous, on the contrary, of thofe to which
the character of virtue could in any refpect belong,
was that which aimed no further than at the happi-
nefs of an individual, fuch as a fon, a brother, a
friend.
In directing all our actions to promote the greateil
pofTible good, in fubmitting all inferior affections to
the defire of the general happinefs of mankind, in
regarding ones felf but as one of the many, whofe
Y 3 profperity
326 Of Systems Part VI.
profperity was to be purfued no further than it was
confident with, or conducive to that of the whole,
confided the, perfection of virtue.
Self-love was a principle which could never be
virtuous in any degree or in any direction. It was
vicious whenever it obstructed the general good.
When it had no other effect than to make the in-
dividual take care of his own happinefs, it was merely
innocent, and tho' it deferved no praife, neither
ought it to incur any blame. Thofe benevolent
actions which were performed, notwithstanding fome
ftrong motive from felf-intereft, were the more vir-
tuous upon that account. They demonftrated the
ftrength and vigour of the benevolent principle.
Dr. Hutchefon * was fo far from allowing felf-
love to be in any cafe a motive of virtuous actions,
that even a regard to the pleafure of felf-approbation,
to the comfortable applaufe of our own confciences,
according to him, diminifhed the merit of a benevo-
lent action. This was a felfifh motive, he thought,
which, fo far as it contributed to any action, demon-
ftrated the weaknefs of that pure and difinterefted
benevolence which could alone ftamp upon the con-
duct of man the character of virtue. In the com-
mon judgments of mankind, however, this regard
to trje approbation of our own minds is fo far from
being confidered as what can in any refpect diminifh
the virtue of any action, tliat it is rather looked upon
as the fole motive which deferves the appellation of
virtuous.
Such
* Inquiry concerning virtue, fed. 2. art. 4. alfo illuftrations
on the moral fenfe, feet. 5. laft paragraph.
Se<St. II- of Moral Philosophy. 327
Such is the account given of the nature of virtue
in this amiable fyftem, a fyftem which has a peculiar
tendency to nourifh and fupport in the human heart
the nobleft and the molt agreeable of all affections,
and not only to check the injuftice of felf-love, but
in fome meafure to difcourage that principle altoge-
ther, by reprefenting it as what could never reflect
any honour upon thofe who were influenced by it.
As fome of the other fyftems which I have already
given an account of, do not fufficiently explain from
whence arifes the peculiar excellency of the fupreme
virtue of beneficence, fo this fyftem feems to have
the contrary defeft, of not fufficiently explaining
from whence arifes our approbation of the inferior
virtues of prudence, vigilance, circumfpection, tem-
perance, conftancy, firmnefs. The view and aim of
our affections, the beneficent and hurtful effects which
they tend to produce, are the only qualities at all at-
tended to in this fyftem. Their propriety and im-
propriety, their fuitablenefs and unfuitablenefs, to
the caule which excites them, are difregarded alto-
gether.
Regard to our own private happinefs and intereil
too, appear upon many occafions very laudable prin-
ciples of ad ion. The habits ofoeconomy, induftry,
difcretion, attention, and application of thought,
are generally fuppofed to be cultivated from felf-
interefted motives, and at the fame time are appre-
hended to be very praife-worthy qualities, which de-
ferve the efteem and approbation of every body.
The mixture of a felfim motive, it is true, feems
often to fully the beauty of thofe actions which ought
Y 4 to
3^8 Of Systems Part VI.
to arife from a benevolent affection, The caufe of
this, however, is not that felf-love can never be
the motive of a virtuous action, but that the bene-
volent principle appears in this particular cafe to
want its due degree of ftrength, and to be altoge-
ther unfuitable to its object. The character, there-,
fore, feems evidently imperfect, and upon the whole
to deferve blame rather than praife. The mixture
of a benevolent motive in an action to which felf-
love alone ought to be fufficient to prompt us, is
not fo apt indeed to diminifh our fenfe of its propri-
ety, or of the virtue of the perfon who performs it.
We are not ready to fufpect any perfon of being de-
fective in felHfhnefs. This is by no means the weak
fide of human nature, or the failing of which we
are apt to be fufpicious. If we could really believe,
however, of any man, that, was it not from a regard
to his family and friends, he would not take that
proper care of his health, his life, or his fortune, to
which felf-prefervation alone ought to be fufficient to
prompt him, it would undoubtedly be a failing, thos
one of thofe amiable failings, which render a perfon
rather the object of pity than of contempt or hatred.
It would ftill, however, fomewhat diminifh the dig-
nity and refpectablenefs of his character. Carelefs-
nefs and want of ceconomy are univerfally difap-
proved of, not, however as proceeding from a want
of benevolence, but from a want of the proper at-
tention to the objects of felf-intereft.
Though the ftandard by which cafuifts fre-
quently determine what is right or wrong in human
conduct, be its tendency to the welfare or diforder
of fociety, it does not follow that a regard to the
welfare
Se6t. II, of Moral Philosophy. 329
welfare of fociety fhould be the fole virtuous motive
of action, but only that, in any competition, it
ought to cart the balance againft all other motives.
Benevolence may, perhaps, be the fole principle
of action in the Deity, and there are feveral, not im-
probable, arguments which tend to perfuade us that
it is fo. It is not eafy to conceive what other motive
an independent and all perfect being, who (lands in
need of nothing external, and whofe happinefs is
complete in himfelf, can act from. But whatever
may be the cafe with the Deity, fo imperfect a crea-
ture as man, the fupport of whofe exiftence requires
fo many things external to him, muft often act from
many other motives. The condition of human na-
ture were peculiarly hard, if thofe affections, which,
by the very nature of our being, ought frequently to
influence our conduct, could upon no occafion appear
virtuous, or deferve efteem and commendation from
any body.
Thofe three fyftems, that which places virtue in
propriety, that which places it in prudence, and
that which makes it confift in benevolence, are the
principal accounts which have been given of the na-
ture of virtue. To one or other of them, all the
other defcriptions of virtue, how different foever they
may appear, are eafily reducible.
That fyftem which places virtue in obedience to
the will of the Deity, may be counted either among
thpfe which make it confift in prudence, or among
thofe which make it confift in propriety. When it is
afked, why we ought to obey the will of the Deity,
this queftion, which would be impious and abfurd
in the higheft degree, if afked from any doubt that
we
330 O/ S y s t e m s Part VI.
we ought to obey him, can admit but of two differ-
ent anfwers. It muft either be faid that we ought to
obey the will of the Deity becaufe he is a being of
infinite power, who will reward us eternally if we do
fo, and punifh us eternally if we do otherwife : Or
it mull be faid, that independent of any regard to our
own happinefs, or to rewards and punifhments of
any kind, there is a congruity and fitnefs that a crea-
ture fliould obey its creator, that a limited and imper-
fect being mould fubmit to one of infinite and in-
comprehenfible perfections. Befides one or other of
thefe two it is impofiible to conceive that any other
anfwer can be given to this queftion. If the firft an-
fwer be the proper one, virtue confifts in prudence,
or in the proper purfuit of our own final intereft and
happinefs; fince it is upon this account that we are
obliged to obey the will of the Deity. If the fecond
anfwer be the proper one, virtue muft confift in pro-
priety, fince the ground of our obligation to obedi-
ence is the fuitablenefs or congruity of the fentiments
of humility and fubmiflion to the fuperiority of the
object which excites them.
That fyftem which places virtue in utility coincides
too with that which makes it confift in propriety.
According to this fyftem all thofe qualities of the
mind* which are agreeable or advantageous, either to
the perfon himfelf or to others, are approved of as
virtuous, and the contrary difapproved of as vicious.
But the agreeablenefs or utility of any affection de-
pends upon the degree which it is allowed to fubfift
in. Every affection is ufeful when it is confined to
a certain degree of moderation •, and every affection
is difadvantageous when it exceeds the proper bounds.
According to this fyftem therefore, virtue confifts,
not
Sect. IL of Moral Philosophy. 331
not in any one affection, but in the proper degree of
all the affections. The only difference between it
and that which I have been endeavouring to eftablifh,
is, that it makes utility, and not fympathy, or the
correfpondent affection of the fpectator, the natural
and original meafure of this proper degree.
CHAP. IV.
Of licentious fyftems.
A
L L thofe fyftems, which I have hitherto given
an account of, fuppofe that there is a real and effen ■•
tial diftinction between vice and virtue, whatever
thefe qualities may confift in. There is a real and
effential difference between the propriety and impro-
priety of any affection, between benevolence and any
other principle of action, between real prudence and
fhort- lighted folly or precipitate raihnefs. In the
main too all of them contribute to encourage the
praife- worthy, and to difcourage the blameable dif-
pofuion.
It may be true perhaps, of fome of them, that
they tend, in fome meafure, to break the balance
of the affections, and to give the mind a particular
bias to fome principles of action, beyond the pro-
portion that is due to them. The ancient fyftems
which place virtue in propriety, feem chiefly to re-
commend the great, the awful, and the refpectable
virtues, the virtues of felf-government and felf-
command •, fortitude, magnanimity, independency
upon fortune, the contempt of all outward accidents,
of pain, poverty, exile, and death. It is in thefe
great
3$z 0/ Systems , Part VI.
great exertions that the nobleft propriety of conduct
is difplayed. The foft, the amiable, the gentle vir-
tues, all the virtues of indulgent humanity are, in
comparifon, but little infifted upon, and feem, on
the contrary, by the Stoics in particular, to have
been often regarded as mere weaknefTes which it be-
hoved a wife man not to harbour in his bread.
The benevolent fyftem, on the other hand, while
it fofters and encourages all thofe milder virtues in
the higheft degree, feems entirely to neglect the more
awful and refpectable qualities of the mind. It even
denies them the appellation of virtues. It calls them
moral abilities, and treats them as qualities which do
not delerve the fame fort of efteem and approbation,
that is due to what is properly denominated virtue.
All thofe principles of action which aim only at our
own intereft, it treats, if that be pofiible, ftill worfe.
So far from having any merit of their own, they di-
minifh, it pretends, the merit of benevolence, when
they co-operate with it : and prudence, it is afferted,
when employed only in promoting private intereft,
can never even be imagined a virtue.
That fyftem, again, which makes virtue confift
in prudence only, while it gives the higheft encou-
ragement to the habits of caution, vigilance, fobrieiy,
and judicious moderation, feems to degrade equally
both the amiable and refpedtable virtues, and to
ftrip the former of all their beauty, and the latter of
all their grandeur.
But notwithftanding thefe defects, the general ten-
dency of each of thofe three fyftems is to encourage
the beft and moft laudable habits of the human mind :
and
Sect. II. of Moral Philosophy. 333
and it were well for fociety, if, either mankind in
general, or even thofe few who pretend to live ac-
cording to any philofophical rule, were to regulate
their conduct by the precepts of any one of them.
We may learn from each of them fomething that is
both valuable and peculiar. If it was pofiible, by
precept and exhortation, to infpire the mind with
fortitude and magnanimity, the ancient fyftems of
propriety would feem fufEcient to do this. Or if it
was poflible, by the fame means, to foften it into
humanity, and to awaken the affections of kindnefs
and general love towards thofe we live with, fome
of the pictures with which the benevolent fyftem pre-
fents us, might feem capable of producing this ef-
fect. We may learn from the fyftem of Epicurus,
though undoubtedly the worft of all the three, how
much the practice of both the amiable and refpecta-
ble virtues is conducive to our own intereft, to our
own eafe and fafety and quiet even in this life. As
Epicurus placed happinefs in the attainment of eafe
and fecurity, he exerted himfelf in a particular man-
ner to (how that virtue was, not merely the befl and
the fureft, but the only means of acquiring thofe in-
valuable pofifeflions. The good effects of virtue,
upon our inward tranquility and peace of mind, are
what other philofophers have chiefly celebrated. Epi-
curus, without neglecting this topic, has chiefly in-
filled upon the influence of that amiable quality on
our outward profperity and fafety. It was upon this
account that his writings were fo much ftudied in the
ancient world by men of all different philofophical
parties. It is from him that Cicero, the great enemy
of the Epicurean fyftem, borrows his mod agreeable
proofs that virtue alone is fufficient to fecure happi-
nefs. Seneca, though a Stoic, the feet mod oppo-
334 0/ S y s t e m s Part VL
fite to that of Epicurus, yet quotes this philofopher
more frequently than any other.
There are, however, fome other fyftems which
ieem to take away altogether the diftin&ion between
vice and virtue, and of which the tendency is, upon
that account, wholly pernicious: I mean the fyftems
of the duke of Rochefoucault and Dr. Mandeville.
Though the notions of both thefe authors are in al-
mod every refpect erroneous, there are, however,
fome appearances in human nature which, when
viewed in a certain manner, feem at firft fight to fa-
vour them. Thefe, firft flightly fketched out with
the elegance and delicate precifion of the duke of
Rochefoucault, and afterwards more fully repre-
fented with the lively and humorous, though coarfe
and ruftic eloquence of Dr. Mandeville, have thrown
upon their doctrines an air of truth and probability
which is very apt to impofe upon the unfkilful.
Dr. Mandeville, the mod methodical of thofe
two authors, confiders whatever is done from a fenfe
of propriety, from a regard to what is commendable
and praife-worthy, as being done from a love of
praife and commendation, or as he calls it from va-
nity. Man, he obferves, is naturally much more
interefted in his own happinefs than in that of others,
and it is impoiliblethat in his heart he can ever really
prefer their profperity to his own. Whenever he ap-
pears to do fo, we may be aflured that he impofes
upon us, and that he is then acting from the fame
felfifti motives as at all other times. Among his
other felfifti paflions, vanity is one of the ftrongeft,
and he is always eafily flattered and greatly delighted
with the applaufes of thofe about him. , When he
appears
Sect. II. of Moral Philosophy. 335
appears to facrifice his own intereft to that of his
companions, he knows that this conduct will be
highly agreeable to their felf-love, and that they will
not fail to exprefs their fatisfaction by bellowing up-
on him the moil extravagant praifes. The pleafure
which, he expects from this, over- balances, in his
opinion, the intereft which he abandons in order to
procure it. His conduct, therefore, upon this oc-
cafion, is in reality juft as felfifh, and arifes from juft
as mean a motive as upon any other. He is flatter-
ed, however, and he flatters himfelf with the belief
that it is entirely difmterefted •, fince, unlefs this was
fuppofed, it would not feem to merit any commenda-
tion either in his own eyes or in thole of others. All
public fpirit, therefore, all preference of public to
private intereft, is, according to him a mere cheat
and impofition upon mankind -, and that human vir-
tue which is fo much boafted of, and which is the
occafion of fo much emulation among men, is the
mere offspring of flattery begot upon pride.
Whether the mod generous and public fpirited
actions may not, in fome fenfe, be regarded as pro-
ceeding from felf-love, I fhall not at prefent exa-
mine. The decifion of this queftion is not, I appre-
hend, of any importance towards eftablifhing the
reality of virtue, fince felf-love may frequently be a
virtuous motive of action. I fhall only endeavour to
(how that the defire of doing what is honourable and
noble, of rendering ourfelves the proper objects of
efteem and approbation, cannot with any propriety
be called vanity. Even the love of well-grounded
fame and reputation, the defire of acquiring efteem
by what is really eftimable, does not deferve that
name. The firft is the love of virtue, the nobleft
and
33$ Of Systems Part VI.
and the bed paflion of human nature. The fecond
is the love of true glory, a paflion inferior no doubt
to the former, but which in dignity appears to come
immediately after it. He is guilty of vanity who de-
fires praife for qualities which are either not praife-
worthy in any degree, or not in that degree which
he expects to be praifed for them ; who fees his cha-
racter upon the frivolous ornaments of drefs and
equipage, or the equally frivolous accompiifhments
of ordinary behaviour. He is guilty of vanity who
defires praife for what indeed very well deferves it,
but what he perfectly knows does not belong to him.
The empty coxcomb who gives himfelf airs of im-
portance which he has no title to, the filly liar who
aflumes the merit of adventures which never happen-
ed, the foolifh plagiary who gives himfelf out for the
author of what he has no pretenfions to, are properly
accufed of this paflion. He too is faid to be guilty
of vanity who is not contented with the filent fenti-
ments of edeem and approbation, who feems to be
fonder of their noify expreflions and acclamations
than of the fentiments themfelves, who is never fatis-
iied but when his own praifes are ringing in his ears,
and whofolicits with the mod anxious importunity all
external marks of refpect, is fond of titles, of compli-
ments, of being vifited, of being attended, of being
taken notice of in public places with the appearance of
deference and attention. This frivolous paflion is al-
together different from either of the two former, and
is the paflion of the lowed, and the lead of mankind,
as they are of the nobled and the greated.
But though thefe three paflions, the defire of ren-
dering ourfelves tl^e proper objects of honour and
edeem ; or of becQming what is honourable and
eftimablei
Sect. II. of Moral Philosophy. 337
eftimable ; the defire of acquiring honour and efteem
by really defer ving thofe fentirnents ; and the frivo-
lous defire of praife at any rate, are widely different ;
though the two former are always approved of,
while the latter never fails to be defpifed ; there is,
however, a certain remote affinity among them,
which, exaggerated by the humorous and diverting
eloquence of this lively author, has enabled him to
impofe upon his readers. There is an affinity be-
tween vanity and the love of true glory, as both thefe
paffions aim at acquiring efteem and approbation.
But they are different in this, that the one is a juft,
reafonable, and equitable paffion, while the other is
unjufl, abfurd, and ridiculous. The man who de-
fires efteem for what is really eftimable, defires no-
thing but what he is juftly entitled to, and what can-
not be refufed him without fome fort of injury. He,
on the contrary, who defires it upon any other terms,
demands what he has no juft claim to. The firft is
eafily fatisfied, is not apt to be jealous or fufpicious
that we do not efteem him enough, and is feldom fo-
licitous about receiving many external marks of our
regard. The other, on the contrary, is never to be
fatisfied, is full of jealoufy and fufpicion that we do
not efteem him fo much as he defires, becaufe he has
fome fecret confcioufnefs that he defires more than he
deferves. The leaft neglect of ceremony, he confi-
ders as a mortal affront, and as an expreffion of the
moft determined contempt. He is reftlefs and im-
patient, and perpetually afraid that we have loft all
refpect for him, and is upon this account always
anxious to obtain new expreflions of efteem, and
cannot be kept in temper but by continual atten-
dance and adulation,
Z There
338 O/Systems Part VL
There is an affinity too between the defire of be-
coming what is honourable and eflimable, and the
defire of honour and efleem, between the love of vir-
tue and the love of true glory. They refemble one
another not only in this refpect, that both aim at
really being what is honourable and noble, but even
in that refpect in which the love of true glory refem-
bles what is properly called vanity, fome reference
to the fentiments of others. The man of the greater!
magnanimity, who defires virtue for its own fake,
and is mod indifferent about what actually are the
opinions of mankind with regard to him, is flill,
however, delighted with the thoughts of what they
ihould be, with the conicioufnefs that though he
may neither be honoured nor applauded, he is flill
the proper object of honour and applaufe, and that
if mankind were cool and candid and confiftent with
themfelves, and properly informed of the motives
and circumftances of his conduct, they would not
fail to honour and applaud him. Though he def-
pifes the opinions which are actually entertained of
him, he has the higheft value for thofe which ought
to be entertained of him. That he might think
himfelf worthy of thofe honourable fentiments,
and, whatever was the idea which other men
might conceive of his character, that when he
fhould put himfelf in their fituation, and con-
fider, not what was, but what ought to be their
Opinion, he fhould always have the higheft idea
of it himfelf, was the great and exalted motive of his
conduct. As even in the love of virtue, therefore,
there is flill fome reference, though not to what is,
yet to what in reafon and propriety ought to be, the
opinion of others, there is even in this refpect fome
affinity between it, and the love of true glory. There
is, however, at the fame time, a very great differ-
ence
Sect. II. of Moral Philosophy. 339
ence between them. The man who acts folely from
a regard to what is right and fit to be done, from a
regard to what is the proper object of efteem and
approbation, though thefe fentiments mould never be
beftowed upon him, acts from the mod fublime and
godlike' motive which human nature is even capable
of conceiving. The man, on the other hand, who
while he defires to merit approbation is at the fame
time anxious to obtain it, though he too is laudabk
in the main, yet his motives have a greater mixture
of human infirmity. He is in danger of being mor-
tified by the ignorance and injultice of mankind, and
his happineis is expofed to the envy of his rivals, and
the folly of the public. The happinefs of the other,
on the contrary, is altogether fecure and independent
of fortune, and of the caprice of thofe he lives with.
The contempt and hatred which may be thrown upon
him by the ignorance of mankind, he confiders as not
belonging to him, and is not at all mortified by it.
Mankind defpife and hate him from a falfe notion of
his character and conduct. If- they knew him bet-
ter, they would efteem and love him. It is not him
whom, properly fpeaking, they hate and defpife, but
another perfon whom they miftake him to be. Our
friend, whom we mould meet at a mafquerade in
the garb of our enemy, would be more diverted than
mortified, if under that difguife we mould vent our
indignation againft him. Such are the fentiments of
a man of real magnanimity, when expofed to unjufl
cenfure. It feldom happens, however, that human
nature arrives at this degree of firmnefs. Though
none but the weakeft and mod worthlefs of man-
kind are much delighted with falfe glory, yet, by
a ftrange inconfiftency, falfe ignominy is often car
pable of mortifying thofe who appear the moft refo-
lute and determined.
Z 2 Df.
54° 0/ S y s t e m s % Part VI.
Dr. Mandeville is not fatisfied with reprefenting
the frivolous motive of vanity, as the fource of all
thofe actions which are commonly accounted virtu-
ous. He endeavours to point out the imperfection
of human virtue in many other refpects. In every
cafe, he pretends, it falls fhort of that complete felf-
denial which it pretends to, and, inftead of a con-
quer!:, is commonly no more than a concealed indul-
gence of our paffions. Wherever our referve with
regard to pleafure falls fhortof the moft afcetic ab-
flinence, he treats it as grofs luxury and fenfuality.
Every thing, according to him, is luxury which ex-
ceeds what is abfolutely necerTary for the fupport of
human nature, fo that there is a vice even in the ufe
of a clean fhirt, or of a convenient habitation. The
indulgence of the inclination to fex? in the moft law-
ful union, he confiders as the fame fenfuality with
the moft hurtful gratification of that paflion, and de-
rides that temperance and that chaftity which can be
pradtifed at fo cheap a rate. The ingenious fophiftry
of his reafoning, is here, as upon many other occa-
fions, covered by the ambiguity of language. There
are fome of our pafHons which have no other names
except thofe which mark the difagreeable and offen-
five degree. The fpeclator is more apt to take no-
tice of them in this degree than in any other. When
they fhock his own fentiments, when they give him
fome fort of antipathy and uneafinefs, he is necefla-
rily obliged to attend to them, and is from thence
naturally led to give them a name. When they fall
in with the natural ftateof his own mind, he is very-
apt to overlook them altogether, and either gives
them no name at all, or, if he gives them any, it is
one which marks rather the fubjeclion and reftraint
of the paflion than the degree which it ftill is allowed
to
Sed. II. 0/ Moral Philosophy. 34*
to fubfift in, after it is fo fubje&ed and reftrained.
Thus the common names of the * love of pleafure,
and of the love of fex, denote a vicious and offenfive
degree of thofe paffions. The words temperance
and chaftity, on the other hand, feem to mark rather
the reftraint and fubjection which they are kept un-
der, than the degree which they are dill allowed
to fubfift in. When he can (how, therefore, that
they dill fubfift in fome degree, he imagines, he has
entirely demolilhed the reality of the virtues of tem-
perance and chaftity, and fhown them to be mere
impofnions upon the inattention and fimplicity of
mankind. Thofe virtues, however, do not require
an entire infenfibility to the objects of the pafiions
which they mean to govern. They only aim at re-
straining the violence of thofe paffions fo far as not to
hurt the individual, and neither difturb nor offend
the fociety.
It is the great fallacy of Dr. Mandeville's book f
to reprefent every paflion as wholly vicious, which is
fo in any degree and in any direction. It is thus that
he treats every thing as vanity which has any reference,
either to what are, or to what ought to be the fenti-
ments of others : and it is by means of this fophi-
ftry, that he eftablifhes his favourite conclufion, that
private vices are public benefits. If the love of mag-
nificence, a tafte for the elegant arts and improve-
ments of human life, for whatever is agreeable in
drefs, furniture, or equipage, for architecture, ftatu-
ary, painting, and mufic, is to be regarded as luxury,
fenfuality and oftentation, even in thofe whofe fitu-
ation allows, without any inconveniency, the indul-
Z 3 gence
* Luxury and lull. f Fable of the Bees,
342 Of Systems Part VI,
gence of thole paflions, it is certain that luxury, fen-
iuality, and oftentation are public benefits : fince,
without the qualities upon which he thinks proper to
beftow fuch opprobrious names, the arts of refine-
ment could never find encouragement, and muft
languifh for want of employment. Some popular
afcetic doctrines which had been current before his
time, and which placed virtue in the entire extir-
pation and annihilation of all our paflions, were the
real foundation of this licentious fyftem. It was eafy
for Dr. Mandeville to prove, firft, that this entire
conqueft never actually took place among men ; and
Secondly, that, if it was to take place univerfally, it
would be pernicious to fociety, by putting an end to
all induflry and commerce, and in a manner to
the whole bufinefs of human life. By the firft of
thefe proportions he feemed to prove that there was
no real virtue, and that what pretended to be fuch,
was a mere cheat and impofition upon mankind ; and
by the fecond, that private vices were public bene-
fits, fince without them no fociety could profper or
fiourifh.
Such is the fyftem of Dr. Mandeville, which once
made fo much noife in the world, and which, though
perhaps, it never gave occafion to more vice than
what would have been without it, at lead taught
that vice, which arofe from other caufes, to appear
with more effrontery, and to avow the corruption of
its motives with a profligate audacioufnefs which had
never been heard of before.
But how deftructive foever this fyftem may appear,
it could never have impofed upon fo great a number
of perfons, nor h^ye occafioned fo general an alarm
among
Sect. II. of Moral Philosophy. 343
among thofe who are the friends of better principles,
had it not in fome refpeds bordered upon the truth.
A fyftem of natural philofophy may appear very
plaufible, and be for a long time very generally re-
ceived in the world, and yet have no foundation in
nature, nor any fort of refemblance to the truth.
The vortices of Des Cartes were regarded by a
very ingenious nation, for near a century toge-
ther, as a mod fatisfactory account of the revoluti-
ons of the heavenly bodies. Yet it has been demon-
ftrated, to the conviction of all mankind, that thefe
pretended caufes of thofe wonderful effects, not only
do not actually exift, but are utterly impoflible, and
if they did exift, could produce no fuch effects as are
afcribed to them. But it is otherwife with fyftems of
moral philofophy, and an author who pretends to
account for the origin of our moral fentiments, can-
not deceive us fo grofsly, nor depart fo very far from
all refemblance to the truth. When a traveller gives
an account of fome diftant country, he may impofe
upon our credulity the moft groundlefs and abfurd
fictions as the moft certain matters of fact. But
when a perfon pretends to inform us of what paiTes
in our neighbourhood, and of the affairs of the very
parifh which we live in, though here too, if we are fo
carelefs as not to examine things with our own eyes,
he may deceive us in many refpects, yet the greater!
falfehoods which he impofes upon us muft bear fome
refemblance to the truth, and muft even have a con-
fiderable mixture of truth in them. An author who
treats of natural philofophy, and pretends to afiign
the caufes of the great phenomena of the univerfe,
pretends to give an account of the affairs of a very
diftant country, concerning which he may tell us
what he pleafes, and as long as his narration keeps
within the bounds of feeming poffibility, he need not
Z 4 defpair
344 0/ Systems Part VI.
defpair of gaining our belief. But when he propofes
ro explain the origin of our defires and affections, of
our fentiments of approbation and difapprobation, he
pretends to give an account, not only of the affairs
of the very parifh that we live in, but of our own
domeftic concerns. Though here too, like indolent
matters who put their truft in a fteward who deceives
them, we are very liable to be impofed upon, yet we
are incapable of palling any account which does not
preferve fome little regard to the truth. Some of the
articles, at lead, muft be juft, and even thofe which
are mod overcharged muft have had fome foundati-
on, otherwife the fraud would be detected even by
that carelefs infpection which we are difpofed to give.
The author who mould aflign, as the caufe of any
natural fentiment, fome principle which neither had
any connexion with it, nor refembled any other prin-
ciple which had fome fuch connexion, would appear
abfurd and ridiculous to the mod injudicious and un-
experienced reader.
SEC T.
Sett. III. of Moral Philosophy, 34.5
SECTION III.
Of the different fyftems which have been formed
concerning the principle of approbation.
INTRODUCTION.
J\ F T E R the inquiry concerning the nature ot
virtue, the next queftion of importance in Moral
Philofophy, is concerning the principle of approba-
tion, concerning the power or faculty of the mind
which renders certain characters agreeable or difa-
greeable to us, makes us prefer one tenour of con-
duel to another, denominate the one right and the
other wrong, and confider the one as the object of
approbation, honour, and reward ; the other as that
of blame, cenfure, and punifhment.
Three different accounts have been given of this
principle of approbation. According to fome, we
approve and difapprove both of our own actions and
of thofe of others, from felf-love only, or from fome
view of their tendency to our own happinefs or dis-
advantage -, according to others, reafon, the fame fa-
culty by which we diflinguifh between truth and
falfehood, enables us to diflinguifh between what is
fit and unfit both in actions and affections : accord-
ing to others this diftinction is altogether the effect
of immediate fentiment and feeling, and arifes from
the "Satisfaction or difgufl with which the view of
certain
346 Of S y s t e m s Part VI.
certain actions or affections infpires us. Self-love,
reafon, and fentiment, therefore, are the three dif-
ferent fources which have been afligned for the prin-
ciple of approbation.
Before I proceed to give an account of thofe dif-
ferent fyftems, I muft obferve, that the determina-
tion of this fecond queftion, though of the greateft
importance in fpeculation, is of none in practice.
The queftion concerning the nature of virtue necef-
farily has fome influence upon our notions of right
and wrong in many particular cafes. That concern-
ing the principle of approbation can poffibly have no
iuch effect. To examine from what contrivance or
mechanifm within, thofe different notions or fenti-
ments arife, is a mere matter of philofophical curio-
fity.
CHAP. I.
Of thofe fyftems which deduce the principle of approba-
tion from J elf love.
HOSE who account for the principle of ap-
probation from felf-love, do not ail account for it in
the fame manner, and there is a good deal of confu-
fion and inaccuracy in all their different fyftems.
According to Mr. Hobbes, and many of his follow-
ers, * man is driven to take refuge in fociety, not
by any natural love which he bears to his own kind,
but becaufe without the afliftance of others he is in-
capable of lubfifting with eafe or fafety. Society,
upon
* Puffendorff. Mandeville.
Sect. III. of Moral Philosophy. 347
upon this account, becomes neceflary to him, and
whatever tends to its iupport and welfare, he confi-
ders as having a remote tendency to his own interelt,
and, on the contrary, whatever is likely to diiturb
or deftroy it, he regards as in fome meafure hurtful
or pernicious to himfelf. Virtue is the great fupport,
and vice the great difturber of human fociety. The
former, therefore, is agreeable, and the latter offen-
iive to every man ; as from the one he forefees the
profperity, and from the other the ruin and diforder
of what is fo neceflary for the comfort and fecurity
of his exiftence.
That the tendency of virtue to promote, and of
vice to difturb the order of fociety, when we confider
it coolly and philofophically, reflects a very great
beauty upon the one, and a very great deformity
upon the other, cannot, as I have obferved upon a
former occafion, be called in queftion. Human fo~
ciety, when we contemplate it in a certain abftract
and philofophical light, appears like a great, an im-
menfe machine, whofe regular and harmonious move-
ments produce a thoufand agreeable effects. As in
any other beautiful and noble machine that was the
production of human art, whatever tended to ren-
der its movements more fmooth and eafy, would de-
rive a beauty from this effect, and, on the contrary,
whatever tended to obitruct them would difpleafe
upon that account: fo virtue, which is, as it were,
the fine polifh to the wheels of fociety, neceffarily
pleafes -, while vice, like the vile ruft, which makes
them jar and grate upon one another, is as neceffarily
offenfive. This account, therefore, of the origin of
approbation and difapprobation, fo far as it derives
them from a regard to the order of fociety, runs into
that
^48 0/ Systems Part VL
that principle which gives beauty to utility, and
which I have explained upon a former occafion •, and
it is from thence that this fyftem derives all that ap-
pearance of probability which it poffefles. When
thofe authors defcribe the innumerable advantages of
a cultivated and focial, above a favage and folitary
life ; when they expatiate upon the necefilty of vir-
tue and good order for the maintenance of the one,
and demonftrate how infallibly the prevalence of
vice and difobedience to the laws tend to bring back
the other, the reader is charmed with the novelty
and grandeur of thofe views which they open to him :
he fees plainly a new beauty in virtue, and a new
deformity in vice, which he had never taken notice
of before, and is commonly fo delighted with the
difcovery, that he feldom takes time to reflect, that
this political view, having never occurred to him in
his life before, cannot pofiibly be the ground of that
approbation and disapprobation with which he has
always been accuftomed to confider thofe different
qualities.
When thofe authors, on the other hand, deduce
from felf-love the intereft which we take in the wel-
fare of fociety, and the efleem which upon that ac-
count we beflow upon virtue, they do not mean, that
when we in this age applaud the virtue of Cato, and
deteft the villainy of Catiline, our ientiments are in-
fluenced by the notion of any benefit we receive from
the one, or of any detriment we fufFer from the
other. It was not becaufe the profperity or fubver-
fion of fociety, in thofe remote ages and nations,
was apprehended to have any influence upon our
happinefs or mifery in the prefent times •, that ac-
cording to thofe pkjlofophers, we efteemed the vir-
tuous,
Sect. III. of Moral Philosophy. 349
tuous, and blamed the diforderly character. They
never imagined that our fentiments were influenced
by any benefit or damage which we fuppofed actual-
ly to redound to us, from either; but by that which
might have redounded to us, had we lived in thofe dis-
tant ages and countries; or by that which might (till
redound to us, if in our own times'.we fhould meet
with characters of the fame kind. The idea, in fhort,
which thofe authors were groping about, but which
they were never able to unfold diflinctly, was that
indirect fympathy which we feel with the gratitude
or refentment of thofe who received the benefit or fuf-
fered the damage refulting from fuch oppofite charac-
ters : and it was this which they were indiflinctly
pointing at, when they faid, that it was not the
thought of what we had gained or fuffered which
prompted our applaufe or indignation, but the con-
ception or imagination of what we might gain or
fufFer if we were to act in fociety with fuch afib-
ciates.
Sympathy, however, cannot, in any fenfe, be re-
garded as a felfifh principle. When I fympathize
with your forrow or your indignation, it may be
pretended, indeed, that my emotion is founded in
felf-love, becaufe it arifes from bringing your cafe
home to myfelf, from putting myfelf in your fitua-
tion, and thence conceiving what I fhould feel in the
like circumftances. But though fympathy is very
properly faid to arife from an imaginary change of
fituations with the perfon principally concerned, yet
this imaginary change is not fuppofed to happen to
me in my own perfon and character, but in that of
the perfon with whom I fympathize. When I con-
dole with you for the lofs of your only fon, in order
to enter into your grief, I do not confider what; I, a
perfon
35° ' Of Systems Part VI.
perfon of fuch a character and profefllon, mould
fuffer, if I had a fori, and if that fon was unfortu-
nately to die : but I confider what I lhould fuffer if I
was really you, and I not only change circumftances
with you, but I change perfons and characters. My
grief, therefore, is entirely upon your account, and
not in the leaft upon my own. It is not, therefore,
in the leaft felfifh. How can that be regarded as a
felfifh paffion, which does not arife even from the
imagination of any thing that has befallen, or that
relates to myfelf, in my own proper perfon and cha-
racter, but which is entirely occupied about what
relates to you ? A man may fympathize with a wo-
man in child-bed •, though it is impoffible that he
fhould conceive himfelf as fuffering her pains in his
own proper perfon and character. That whole ac-
count of human nature, however, which deduces
all fentiments and affections from felflove, which
has made fo much noife in the wor]d, but which, fo
far as I know, has never yet been fully and diftinctly
explained, feems to me to have arifen from fome
confufed mifapprehenfion of the fyftem of fympathy.
CHAP. II.
Of thofe Jyflems which make reafon the principle of
approbation.
A T is well known to have been the doctrine of
Mr. Hobbes, that a ftate of nature, is a (late of war ;
and that antecedent to the inftitution of civil go-
vernment, there could be no fafe or peaceable foci-
cty among men. To preferve fociety, therefore, ac-
cording
Sect. III. of Moral Philosophy.- 351
cording to him, was to fupport civil government, and
to deftroy civil government was the fame thing as to
put an end to fociety. But the exiftence of civil go-
vernment depends upon the obedience that is paid
to the fupreme magiftrate. The moment he lofes
his authority, all government is at an end. As felf-
prefervation, therefore, teaches men to applaud
whatever tends to promote the welfare of fociety,
and to blame whatever is likely to hurt it 5 fo the
fame principle, if they would think and fpeak con-
fidently, ought to teach them to applaud upon all
ocafions obedience to the civil magiftrate, and to
blame all difobedience and rebellion. The very
ideas of laudable and blameable, ought to be the
fame with thofe of obedience and difobedience. The
laws of the civil magiftrate, therefore, ought to be
regarded as the fole ultimate ftandards of what was
juft and unjuft, of what was right and wrong.
It was the avowed intention of Mr. Hobbes, by
propagating thefe notions, to fubject the confciences
of men immediately to the civil, and not to the ec-
clefiaftical powers, whofe turbulence and ambition,
he had been taught, by the example of his own
times, to regard as the principal fource of the dif-
orders of fociety. His doctrine, upon this account,
was peculiarly offenfive to Theologians, who accord-
ingly did not fail to vent their indignation againft
him with great afperity and bitternefs. It was like-
wife offenfive to all found moralifts, as it fuppofed
that there was no natural diftinction between right
and wrong, that thefe were mutable and changeable,
and depended upon the mere arbitrary will of the
civil magiftrate. This account of things, therefore,
was
352 O/Systems Part VI.
was attacked from all quarters, and by all forts of
weapons, by fober reafon as well as by furious de-
clamation.
In order to confute fo odious a doctrine, it was
neceffary to prove, that antecedent to all law or
pofnive inftitution, the mind was naturally endowed
with a faculty, by which it diftinguifhed in certain
actions and affections, the qualities of right, laudable,
and virtuous, and in others thofe of wrong, blame-
able, and vicious.
Law, it was juftly obferved by Dr. Cudworth, *
could not be the original fource of thofe diftinctions ;
fince upon the fuppofition of fuch a law, it muft
either be right to obey it, and wrong to difobey it,
or indifferent whether we obeyed it, or difobeyed it.
That law which it was indifferent whether we obeyed
or difobeyed, could not, it was evident, be the fource
of thofe diftinctions ; neither could that which it was
right to obey and wrong to difobey, fince even this
ftill fuppofed the antecedent notions or ideas of right
and wrong, and that obedience to the law was con-
formable to the idea of right, and difobedience to
that of wrong.
Since the mind, therefore, had a notion of thofe
diftinctions antecedent to all law, it feemed necefla-
rily to follow, that it derived this notion from rea-
fon, which pointed out the difference between right
and wrong, m the fame manner in which it did that
between truth and falfehood : and this conclufion,
which though true in fome refpects, is rather hafty
in
* Immutable Morality, 1. i.
Scdt. III. c/ Moral Philosophy. 353
in others, was more eafily received at a time when
the abftract fcience of human nature was but in its
infancy, and before the diftinct offices and powers of
the different faculties of the human mind had been
carefully examined and diftinguifhed from one ano-
ther. When this controverfy with Mr. Hobbes was
carried on with thegreateft warmth and keennefs, no
other faculty had been thought of from which any
fuch ideas could poffibly be fuppofed to arife. It
became at this time, therefore, the popular doctrine,
that the eiTence of virtue and vice did not con (id in
the conformity or difagreement of human actions
with the law of a fuperior, but in their conformity or
difagreement with reaibn, which was thus confidered
as the original fource and principle of approbation
and difapprobation.
That virtue confifts in conformity to reafon, is
true in fome refpects, and this faculty may veryjuftly
be confidered, as in fome fenfe, the fource and prin-
ciple of approbation and difapprobation, and of all
folid judgments concerning right and wrong. It is
by reafon that we difcover thole general rules of juf-
tice by which we ought to regulate our actions : and
it is by the fame faculty that we form thofe more
vague and indeterminate ideas of what is prudent, of
what is decent, of what is generous or noble, which
we carry conftantly about with us, and according to
which we endeavour, as well as we can, to model
the tenour of our conduct. The general maxims of
morality are formed, like all other general maxims,
from experience and induction. We obferve in a
great variety of particular cafes what pleafes or dif-
pleafes our moral faculties, what thefe approve or
difapprove of, and, by induction from this experi-
A a ence,
354 Of Systems Part VL
ence, we eftablifh thofe general rules. But induction
is always regarded as one of the operations of reafon.
From reafon, therefore, we are very properly faid
to derive all thofe general maxims and ideas. It is
by thefe, however, that we regulate the greater part
of our moral judgments, which would be extremely
uncertain and precarious if they depended altogether
upon what is liable to fo many variations as immedi-
ate fentiment and feeling, which the different ftates
of health and humour are capable of altering fo
efTentially. As our moft folid judgments, therefore,
with regard to right and wrong, are regulated by
maxims and ideas derived from an induction of rea-
fon, virtue may very properly be faid to confifi in a
conformity to reafon, and fo far this faculty may be
confidered as the fource and principle of approbation
and difapprobation.
But though reafon is undoubtedly the fource of
the general rules of morality, and of all the moral
judgments which we form by means of them; it is
altogether abfurd and unintelligible to fuppofe that
the firft perceptions of right and wrong can be derived
from reafon, even in thofe particular cafes upon the
experience of which the general rules are formed.
Thefe firft perceptions, as well all other experiments
upon which any general rules are founded, cannot be
the object of reafon, but of immediate fenfe and
feeling. It is by finding in a vaft variety of inftances
that one tenour of conduct conftantly pleafes in a
certain manner, and that another as conftantly dif-
pleafes the mind, that we form the general rules of
morality. But reafon cannot render any particular
object either agreeable or difagreeable to the mind
for its own fake.^ Reafon may fhow that this object
is
Sect. III. of Moral Philosophy. $5$
k the means of obtaining fome other which is natu-
rally either pleafing or difpleafing, and in this man-
ner may render it either agreeable or difagreeable for
the fake of fomething elfe. But nothing can be
agreeable or difagreeable for its own fake, which is
not rendered fuch by immediate fenfe and feeling.
If virtue, therefore, in every particular inftance,
neceffarily pleafes for its own fake, and if vice as
certainly difpleafes the mind, it cannot bereafon, but
immediate fenfe and feeling, which, in this manner,
reconciles us to the one, and alienates us from the
other.
Pleafure and pain are the great objects of de fire
and averfion : but thefe are diftinguifhed not by
reafon, but by immediate fenfe and feeling. If vir-
tue, therefore, is defirable for its own fake, and if
vice is, in the fame manner, the object of averfion,
it cannot be reafon which originally diftinguifhes
thofe different qualities, but immediate fenfe and
feeling.
As reafon, however, in a certain fenfe, may juftly
be confidered as the principle of approbation and dis-
approbation, thefe fentiments were, through inat-
tention, long regarded as originally flowing from the
operations of this faculty. Dr. Hutchefon had the
merit of being the firft who diftinguifhed with any
degree of precifion in what refpect all moral diftincti-
ons may be faid to arife from reafon, and in what
refpedt they are founded upon immediate fenfe and
feeling. In his illuftrations upon the moral fenfe he
has explained this fo fully, and, in my opinion, fo
unanfwerably, that, if any controverfy is ftill kept
up about this fubject, I can impute it to nothing,
A a 2 but
356 Of S y s t e m s Part VI.
but either to inattention to what that gentleman has
written, or to a fuperftitious attachment to certain
forms of expreflion, a weaknefs not very uncommon
among the learned, efpecially in fubjects fo deeply
interesting as the prefent, in which a man of virtue
is often loth to abandon, even the propriety of a
fingle phrafe which he has been accuftomed to.
CHAP. III.
Of thofe fyftems which make fentiment the principle of
approbation.
JL HOSE fyftems which make fentiment the
principle of approbation may be divided into two
different claffes.
I. According to fome the principle of approbation
is founded upon a fentiment of a peculiar nature,
upon a particular power of perception exerted by the
mind at the view of certain actions or affections y
fome of which affecting this faculty in an agreeable
and others in a difagreeable manner, the former are
flampt with the characters of right, laudable, and
virtuous •> the latter with thofe of wrong, blameable
and vicious. This fentiment being of a peculiar
nature diftinct from every other, and the effect of a
particular power of perception, they give it a parti-
cular name,' and call it a moral fenfe.
II. According to others, in order to account for
the principle of approbation, there is no occafion
for fuppofing an^ new power of perception which
had
Sect. III. c/Moral Philosophy. 357
had never been heard of before : Nature, they ima-
gine, acts here, as in all other cafes, with the ftricteft
ceconomy, and produces a multitude of effects from
one and the fame caufe j and fympathy, a power which
has always been taken notice of, and with which the
mind is manifeftly endowed, is, they think, fuffici-
ent to account for all the effects afcribed to this pecu-
liar faculty.
I. Dr. Hutchefon * had been at great pains to
prove that the principle of approbation was not
founded on felf-love. He had demonftrated too that
it could not arife from any operation of reafon. No-
thing remained, he thought, but to fuppofe it a fa-
culty of a peculiar kind, with which Nature had en-
dowed the human mind, in order to produce this one
particular and important effect. • When felf-love and
reafon were both excluded, it did not occur to him
that there was any other known faculty of the mind
which could in any refpect anfwer this purpofe.
This new power of perception he called a moral
fenie, and fuppofed it to be fomewhat analogous to
the external fenfes. As the bodies around us, by
affecting thefe in a certain manner, appear to poffefs
the different qualities of found, tafte, odour, colour-,
fo the various affections of the human mind, by
touching this particular faculty in a certain manner,
appear to poffefs the different qualities of amiable
and odious, of virtuous and vicious, of right and
wrong.
The various fenfes or powers of perception, f from
which the human mind derives all its fimple ideas,
A a 3 were,
* Inquiry concerning Virtue, f Treatife of the paftions.
358 Of S y s t'e m s Part VI.
were, according to this fyftem,of two different kinds,
of which the one were called the direct or antecedent,
the other, the reflex or confequent fenfes. The di-
rect fenfes were thofe faculties from which the mind
derived the perception of fuch fpecies of things as
did not prefuppofe the antecedent perception of any
other. Thus founds and colours were objects of the
direct fenfes. To hear a found or to fee a colour docs
not prefuppofe the antecedent perception of any other
quality or object. The reflex or confequent fenfes,
on the other hand, were thofe faculties from which
the mind derived the perception of fuch fpecies of
things as prefuppofed the antecedent perception of
fome other. Thus harmony and beauty were objects
of the reflex fenfes. In order to perceive the har-
mony of a found, or the beauty of a colour, we muft
firft perceive the found or the colour. The moral
fenfe was confidered. as a faculty of this kind. That
faculty, which Mr. Locke calls reflection, and from
which he derived the fimple ideas of the different
paffions and emotions of the human mind, was, ac-
cording to Dr. Hutchefon, a direct internal fenfe.
That faculty again by which we perceived the beauty
or deformity, the virtue or vice of thofe different
paffions and emotions, was a reflex, internal fenfe.
Dr. Hutchefon endeavoured (till further to fupport
this doctrine, by (hewing that it was agreeable to the
analogy of nature, and that the mind was endowed
with a variety of other reflex fenfes exactly fimilar to
the moral fenfe * fuch as a fenfe of beauty and de-
formity in external objeas ; a public fenfe, by which
we fympathize with the happinefs or mifery of our
v fellow-
Sect. HI. of Moral Philosophy. 359
fellow-creatures -, a fenfe of fhame and honour, and
a fenfe of ridicule.
But notwithftanding all the pains which this in-
genious philofopher has taken to prove that the prin-
ciple of approbation is founded in a peculiar power
of perception, fomewhat analogous to the external
fenfes, there are fome confequences, which he ac-
knowledges to follow from this doctrine, that will,
perhaps, be regarded by many as a fufficient confu-
tation of it. The qualities, he allows, * which be-
long to the objects of any fenfe, cannot, without the
greateft abfurdity, be afcribed to the fenfe itfelf. Who
ever thought of calling the fenfe of feeing black or
white, the fenfe of hearing loud or low, or the fenfe
of tailing fweet or bitter ? And, according to him,
it is equally abfurd to call our moral faculties vir-
tuous or vicious, morally good or evil. Thefe quali-
ties belong to the objects of thofe faculties, not to
the faculties themfelves. If any man, therefore, was
fo abfurdly conftituted as to approve of cruelty and
injuftice as the higheft virtues, and to dilapprove of
equity and humanity as the mod pitiful vices, fuch
a conftitution of mind might indeed be regarded as
inconvenient both to the individual and to the foci-
ety, and likewife as ftrange, furprifing, and unnatu-
ral in itfelf-, but it could not, without the greateft
abfurdity, be denominated vicious or morally evil.
Yet furely if we faw any man (homing with ad-
miration and applaufe at a barbarous and unmerited
execution, which fome infolent tyrant had ordered,
A a 4 we
* Illuftrations upon the Moral Senfe. Se&. 1. p. 237, et feq.
Third Edition.
36*0 0/ S y s t e m s Part VL
we mould not think we were guilty of any great ab-
furdity in denominating this behaviour vicious and
morally evil in the higheft degree, though it exprelTed
nothing but depraved moral faculties, or an abfurd
approbation of this horrid action, as of what was
noble, magnanimous, and great. Our heart, I ima-
gine, at the fight of fuch a fpectator, would forget
for a while its fympathy with the fufferer, and feel
nothing but horror and deteftation, at the thought of
fo execrable a wretch. We mould abominate him
even more than the tyrant who might be goaded on
by the ftrong pamons of jealoufy, fear, and refent-
ment, and upon that account be more excufable.
But the fentiments of the fpectator would appear al-
together without caufe or motive, and therefore mod
perfectly and completely deteftable. There is no
perverfion of fentiment or affection \vhich our heart
would be more averfe to enter into, or which it would
reject with greater hatred and indignation than one
of this kind ; and fo far from regarding fuch a con-
ititution of mind as being merely fomething ftrange
or inconvenient, and not in any refpect vicious or
morally evil, we mould rather confider it as the very
lad and molt dreadful flage of moral depravity.
Correct moral fentiments, on the contrary, natu-
rally appear in fome degree laudable and morally
good. The man, whofe cenfure and applaul'e arc
upon all occafions fuited with the greateft accuracy
to the value or unworthinefs of the object, feems to
deferve a degree even of moral approbation. We
admire the delicate precifion of his moral fentiments :
they lead our own judgments, and, upon account of
their uncommon and furprifing juftnefs, they even
excite our wonder and applaufe. Wre cannot indeed
be
Sect. III. of Moral Philosophy. 361
be always fure that the conduct of fuch a perfon
would be in any refpect correfpondent to the preci-
fion and accuracy of his judgments concerning the
conduct of others. Virtue requires habit and refo-
lution of mind, as well as delicacy of fentiment -,
and unfortunately the former qualities are fometimes
wanting, where the latter is in the greateft perfection.
This difpofition of mind, however, though it may
fometimes be attended with imperfections, is incom-
patible with any thing that is grofsly criminal, and
is the happiefl foundation upon which the fuperftruc-
ture of perfect virtue can be built. There are many
men who mean very well, and ierioufly purpofe to do
what they think their duty, who notwithstanding are
difagreeable on account of the coarfenefs of their
moral fentiments.
It may be faid, perhaps, that though the princi-
ple of approbation is not founded upon any power
of perception that is in any refpect analogous to the
external fenfes, it may dill be founded upon a pecu-
liar fentiment which anfwers this one particular pur-
pofe and no other. Approbation and difapproba-
tion, it may be pretended, are certain feelings or
emotions which arife in the mind upon the view of
different characters and actions ; and as refentment
might be called a fenfe of injuries, or gratitude a
fenfe of benefits, fo thefe may very properly receive
the name of a fenfe of right and wrong, or of a mo-
ral fenfe.
But this account of things, though it may not be
liable to the fame objections with the foregoing,
is expofed to others which are equally unanfwerable.
Fird
362 Of S y s t e m s Part VL
Firft of all, whatever variations any particular
emotion may undergo, it (till preferves the general
features which diftinguifh it to be an emotion of
fuch a kind, and thefe general features arc always
more ftriking and remarkable than any variation
which it may undergo in particular cafes. Thus an-
ger is an emotion of a particular kind : and accord*
ingly its general features are always more diftin-
guifhable than all the variations it undergoes in par-
ticular cafes. Anger againft a man, is, no doubt,
fomewhat different from anger againft a woman,
and that again from anger againft a child. In each
of thofe three cafes, the general paffion of anger re-
ceives a different modification from the particular
character of its object, as may eafily be obferved by
the attentive. But ftill the general features of the
paffion predominate in all thefe cafes. To diftin-
guifh thefe, requires no nice obfervation : a very de-
licate attention, on the contrary, is necelTary to difco-
ver their variations : every body takes notice of the
former : fcarce any body obferves the latter. If ap-
probation and difapprobation, therefore, were, like
gratitude and refentment, emotions of a particular
kind, diftinct from every other, we mould expect
that in all the variations which either of them might
undergo, it would ftill retain the general features
which mark it to be an emotion of fuch a particular
kind, clear, plain, and eafily diftinguifhable. But
in fact it happens quite otherwife. If we attend to
what we really feel when upon different occafions we
either approve or difapprove, we fhall find that our
emotion in one cafe is often totally different from
that in another, and that no common features can
poflibly be difcovered between them. Thus the ap-
x probation
0
Sect. III. of Moral Philosophy. 36
probation with which we view a tender, delicate,
and humane fentiment, is quite different from that
with which we are ftruck by one that appears great,
daring, and magnanimous. Our approbation of
both may, upon different occafions, be perfect and
entire ; but we are foftened by the one, and we are
elevated by the other, and there is no fort of re-
femblance between the emotions which they excite
in us. But, according to that fyftem which I have
been endeavouring to eftablifh, this muft neceffarily
be the cafe. As the emotions of the perfon whom
we approve of, are, in thofe two cafes, quite oppo-
fite to one another, and as our approbation ariies
from fympathy with thofe oppofite emotions, what
we feel upon the one occafion, can have no fort of
refemblance to what we feel upon the other. But
this could not happen if approbation confided in a
peculiar emotion which had nothing in common with
the fentiments we approved of, but which arofe at
the view of thofe fentiments, like any other paffion
at the view of its proper object. The fame thing
holds true with regard to difapprobation. Our
horror for cruelty has no fort of refemblance to our
contempt for mean-fpiritednefs. It is quite a dif-
ferent fpecies of difcord which we feel at the view
of thofe two different vices, between our minds
and thofe of the perfon whofe fentiments and be-
haviour we confider.
Secondly, I have already obferved, that not only
the different paffions or affections of the human mind
which are approved or difapproved of appear mo-
rally good or evil, but that proper and improper ap-
probation appear, to our natural fentiments, to be
ftarnpt with the fame characters. I would afk,
therefore,
364 O/Systems Part VI.
therefore, how it is, that, according to this fyftem,
we approve or difapprove of proper or improper
approbation. To this queftion, there is, I imagine,
but one reafonable anfwer, which can poflibly be
given. It mult be faid, that when the approbation
with which our neighbour regards the conduct of a
third perfon coincides with our own, we approve of
his approbation, and confider it as, in fomemeafure,
morally good ; and that on the contrary, when it
does not coincide with our own fentiments, we dif-
approve of it, and confider it as, in fome meafure,
morally evil. It mud be allowed, therefore, that,
at leaft in this one cafe, the coincidence or oppofition
of fentiments, between the obferver and the perfon
obferved, conftitutes moral approbation or difappro-
bation. And if it does fo in this one cafe, I would
afk, why not in every other? to what purpofe ima-
gine a new power of perception in order to account
for thofe fentiments ?
Againft every account of the principle of appro-
bation, which makes it depend upon a peculiar fen-
timent, diftincl from every other, I would object ;
that it is ftrange that this fentimenr, which Provi-
dence undoubtedly intended to be the governing
principle of human nature, fhould hitherto have
been fo little taken notice of, as not to have got a
name in any language. The word moral fenfe is of
very late formation, and cannot yet be confidered as
making part of the Englifh tongue. The word ap-
probation has but within thefe few years been ap-
propriated to denote peculiarly any. thing of this
kind. In propriety of language we approve of
whatever is entirely to our fatisfa&ion, of the form
of a building, of rhe contrivance of a machine, of
the
Se£t. III. of Moral Philosophy. 365
the flavour of a didi of meat. The word confcience
does not immediately denote any moral faculty by
which we approve or difapprove. Confcience fup-
pofes, indeed, the exiftence of fome fuch faculty,
and properly fignifies our confcioufnefs of having
acted agreeably or contrary to its directions. When
love, hatred, joy, lbrrow, gratitude, refentment, with
fo many other pafiions which are all fuppofed to be
the fubjects of this principle, have made themfelves
confiderable enough to get titles to know them by,
is it not furprifing that the fovereign of them ail
mould hitherto have been fo little heeded, that, a
few philofophers excepted, no body has yet thought
it worth while to bellow a name upon it ?
"When we approve of any character or action,
the fentiments which we feel, are, according to the
foregoing fyftem, derived from four fources, which
are in fome refpects different from one another.
Firft, we fympathize with the motives of the agent ;
fecondly, we enter into the gratitude of thofe who
receive the benefit of his actions ; thirdly, we ob-
ferve that his conduct has been agreeable to the ge-
neral rules by which thofe two fympathies generally
act ; and, laft of all, when we confider fuch ac-
tions as making part of a fyftem of behaviour which
tends to promote the happinefs either of the indivi-
dual or of the fociety, they appear to derive a beauty
from this utility, not unlike that which we afcribe
to any well contrived machine. After deducting,
in any one particular cafe, all that muft be acknow-
ledged to proceed from fome one or other of thefe four
principles, I fhould be glad to know what remains,
and I (hall freely allow this overplus to be afcribed
to a moral fenfe, or to any other peculiar faculty,
provided
$66 Of S y s t e m s Part VI.
provided any body will afcertain precifely what this
overplus is. It might be expected, perhaps, that
if there was any fuch peculiar principle, foch as
this moral fenfe is luppofed to be, we mould feel it,
in fome particular cafes, feparated and detached from
every other, as we often feel joy, forrow, hope,
and fear, pure and unmixed with any other emotion.
This however, I imagine, cannot even be pretended.
I have never heard any inftance alleged in which
this principle could be faid to exert itfelf alone and
unmixed with fympathy or antipathy, with gratitude
or refentment, with the perception of the agreement
or difagreement of any action to an eflablifhed rule,
or lad of all with that general tafte for beauty and
order which is excited by inanimated as well as by
animated objects.
II. There is another fyflem which attempts to ac-
count for the origin of our moral fentiments from
fympathy diftinct from that which I have been en-
deavouring to eftablifh. It is that which places vir-
tue in utility, and accounts for the pleafure with
which the fpectator furveys the utility of any quality
from fympathy with the happinefs of thofe who are
affected by it. This fympathy is different both from
that by which we enter into the motives of the agent,
and from that by which we go along with the grati-
tude of the perfons who are benefited by his actions.
It is the fame principle with that by which we ap-
prove of a well contrived machine. But no machine
can be the object of either of thofe two laft mentioned
fympathies. I have already, in the fourth part of
this difcourfe, given fome account of this fyftem.
SECT-
Sect. IV. of Moral Philosophy. 367
SECTION IV.
Of the manner in which different authors have treated
of the practical rules of morality.
X T was obferved in the third part of this difcourfe,
that the rules of juftice are the only rules of morality
which are precife and accurate ; that thofe of all the
other virtues are loofe, vague, and indeterminate;
that the firft may be compared to the rules of gram-
mar \ the others to thofe which critics lay down for
the attainment of what is fublime and elegant in com-
pofition, and which prefent us rather with a general
idea of the perfection we ought to aim at, than af-
ford us any certain and infallible directions for ac-
quiring it.
As the different rules of morality admit fuch dif-
ferent degrees of accuracy, thofe authors who have
endeavoured to collect and digeft them into fyilems
have done it in two different manners ; and one fet
has followed thro' the whole that loofe method to
which they were naturally directed by the confidera-
tion of one fpecies of virtues *, while another has as
univerfally endeavoured to introduce into their pre-
cepts that fort of accuracy of which only fome of
them are fufceptible. The firft have wrote like cri-
tics, the fecond like grammarians.
I. The
36S Of S y s t e m s Part VL
I. The firft, among whom we may count all the
ancient moralifts, have contented themfelves with
defcribing in a general manner the different vices and
virtues, and with pointing out the deformity and
mifery of the one difpofuion as well as the pro-
priety and happinefs of the other, but have not af-
fected to lay down many precife rules that are to
hold good unexceptionably in all particular cafes.
They have only endeavoured to afcertain, as far as
language is capable of afcertaining, firft, wherein
confifts the fentiment of the heart, upon which
each particular virtue is founded, what fort of in-
ternal feeling or emotion it is which conftitutes the
effence of friendfhip, of humanity, of generality,
of juftice, of magnanimity, and of all the other
virtues, as well as of the vices which are oppofed
tn them : and, fecondly, What is the general way of
acting, the ordinary tone and tenour of conduct to
which each of thofe fentiments would direct us, or
how it is that a friendly, a generous, a brave, a juft,
and a humane man, would, upon ordinary occafions,
chufe to act.
To characterize the fentiment of the heart, upon
which each particular virtue is founded, though it
requires both a delicate and accurate pencil, is a tafk,
however, which may be executed with fome degree
of exactnefs. It is impoflible, indeed, to exprefs all
the variations which each fentiment either does or
ought to undergo, according to every poffible varia-
tion of circumftances. They are endlefs, and lan-
guage wants names to mark them by. The fenti-
ment of friendfhip, for example, which we feel for
an old man is different from that which we feel for
a young :
Sect. IV. of Moral Philosophy. 369
a young : that which we entertain for an auftere
man different from that which we feel for one of
fofter and gentler manners : and that again from
what we feel for one of gay vivacity and fpirit. The
friendfhip which we conceive for 'a man is different
from that with which a woman affects us, even
where there is no mixture of any groffer paffion.
What author could enumerate and afcertain thefe
and all the other infinite varieties which this fenti-
ment is capable of undergoing ? But ftill the general
fentiment of friendfhip and familiar attachment
which is common to them all, may be afcertained with
a fufficient degree of accuracy. The picture which is
drawn of it, though it will always be in many refpects
incomplete, may, however, have fuch a refemblance
as to make us know the original when we meet with
it, and even diftinguifh it from other fentiments to
which it has a considerable refemblance, fuch as good-
will, refpect, efteem, admiration.
To defcribe, in a general manner, what is the or-
dinary way of acting to which each virtue would
prompt us, is ftill more eafy. It is, indeed, fcarce
poffible to defcribe the internal fentiment or emotion
upon which it is founded, without doing fomething
of this kind. It is impoflible by language to ex-
prefs, if I may fay fo, the invifible features of all
the different modifications of pafiian as they fhow
themfelves within. There is no other way of mark-
ing and diftinguilhing them from one another, but
by defcribing the effects which they produce with-
out, the aletrations which they occafion in the
countenance, in the air and external behaviour, the
refolutions they fuggeft, the actions they prompt to.
It is thus that Cicero, in the firft book of his Of-
B b flees.
3jo * 0/ Systems Part VI.
fices, endeavours to direct us to the practice of the
four cardinal virtues, and that Ariflotle in the prac-
tical parts of his Ethics, points out to us the diffe-
rent habits by which he would have us regulate our
behaviour, fuch as liberality, magnificence, magna-
nimity, and even jocularity and good humour, qua-
lities, which that indulgent philolbpher has thought
worthy of a place in the catalogue of the virtues,
though the lightnefs of that approbation which we
naturally beftow upon them, mould not feem to en-
title them to fo venerable a name.
Such works prefent us with agreeable and lively
pictures of manners. By the vivacity of their de-
fcriptions they inflame our natural love of virtue,
and increafe our abhorrence of vice : by the juft-
nefs as well as delicacy of their obfervations they
may often help both to correct and to afcertain our
natural fentiments with regard to the propriety of
conduct, and fuggefling many nice and delicate at-
tentions, form us to a more exact juftnefs of be-
haviour, than what, without fuch initruction, we
fhould have been apt to think of. In treating of
the rules of morality, in this manner, confifts the
fcience which is properly called Ethics, a fcience,
which though like criticifm, it does not admit of the
mod: accurate precifion, is, however,both highly ufefui
and agreeable. It is of all others the moll fufcepti-
ble of the embellifliments of eloquence, and by means
of them of bellowing, if that be poflible, a new im-
portance upon the fmalleft rules of duty. Its pre-
cepts, when thus drefled and adorned, are capable
of producing upon the flexibility of youth, the
noblefl and moft lafling impreffions, and as they
fall in with the natural magnanimity of that gene-
rous
Sect. IV. o/Moral Philosophy, ^i
rous age, they are able to infpire, for a time atleaft,*
the moft heroic resolutions, and thus tend both to
eftablifh and confirm the beft and moft ufeful habits
of which the mind of man is fufceptible. What-
ever precept and exhortation can do to animate us to
the practice of virtue, is done by this fcience de-
livered in this manner.
IL Thefecond fet of moralifts, among whom we
may count all the cafuifts of the middle and latter
ages of the chriftian church, as well as ail thofe who
in this and in the preceding century have treated of
what is called natural jurifprudence, do not content
themfeives with characterizing in this general man-
ner that tenour of conduct which they would re-
commend to us, but endeavour to lay down exact
and precife rules for the direction of every circum-
ftance of our behaviour. As juftice is the only virtue
with regard to which iuch exact rules can properly
be given -9 it is this virtue, that has chiefly fallen
under the confideration of thofe two different fets of
writers. They treat of it, however, in a very dif-
ferent, manner.
Thofe who write upon the principles of jurifpru-
dence, confider only what the perfon to whom the
obligation is due, ought to think himfelf entitled to
exact by force ; what every impartial fpectator would
approve of him for exacting, or what a judge or
arbiter, to whom he had fubmitted his cafe, and
who had undertaken to do him juftice, ought to oblige
the other perfon to fuffer or to perform. The ca-
fuifts, on the other hand, do not fo much examine
what it is, that might properly be exacted by force,
as what it is, that the perfon who owes the obligation
B b 2 ought
•
372 Of Systems Part VL
ought to think himfelf bound to perform from the
mod facred and fcrupulous regard to the general
rules of juftice, and from the mod confcientious
dread, either of wronging his neighbour, or of vio-
lating the integrity of his own character. It is the
end of jurifprudence to prefcribe rules for the deci-
fions of judges and arbiters. It is the end of ca-
fuiftry to prefcribe rules for the conduct of a good
man. By obferving all the rules of jurifprudence,
fuppofing them ever fo perfect, we mould deferve
nothing but to be free from external punifhment.
By obferving thofe of cafuiftry, fuppofing them fuch
as they ought to be, we mould be entitled to confi-
derable praife by the exact and fcrupulous delicacy
of our behaviour.
It may frequently happen that a good man ought
to think himfelf bound, from a facred and confcien-
tious regard to the general rules of juftice to perform
many things which it would be the higheft injuftice
to extort from him, or for any judge or arbiter to
impofe on him by force. To give a trite example ;
a highwayman, by the fear of death, obliges a tra-
veller to promife him a certain fum of money.
Whether fuch a promife, extorted in this manner by
unjuft force, ought to be regarded as obligatory, is a
queftion that has been very much debated.
If we confider it merely as a queftion of jurifpru-
dence, the decifion can admit of no doubt. It
would be abfurd to fuppofe that the highwayman
can be entitled to ufe force to conftrain the other to
perform. To extort the promife was a crime which
deferved the higheft punifhment, and to extort the
performance would only be adding a new crime to
the
Sect. IV. c/Moral Philosophy. 373
the former. He can complain of no injury who has
been only deceived by the perfon by whom he might
juftly have been killed. To fuppofe that a judge
ought to enforce the obligation of fuch promifes, or
that the magiftrate ought to aliow them to fuflain
an action at law, would be the moil ridiculous of all
abfurdities. If we confider this queftion, therefore,
as a queftion of jurifprudence, we can be at no lofs
about the decifion.
But if we confider it as a queftion of cafuiftry,
it will not be fo eafily determined. Whether a good
man, from a confcientious regard to that mod facred
rule of juftice, which commands the obfervance of
all ferious promifes, would not think himfelf bound.
to perform, is at lead much more doubtful. That
no regard is due to the difappointment of the wretch
who brings him into this fituation, that no injury is
done to the robber, and confequently that nothing
can be extorted by force, will admit of no fort of
difpute. But whether fome regard is not, in this
cafe, due to his own dignity and honour, to the in-
violable facrednefs of that part of his character
which makes him reverence the law of truth, and
abhor every thing that approaches to treachery and
falfehood, may, perhaps, more reafonably be made
a queftion. The cafuifts accordingly are greatly di-
vided about it. One party, with whom we may
count Cicero among the ancients, among the mo-
derns, Puffendorf, Barbeyrac his commentator, and
above all the late Dr. Hutchefon, one who in mod
cafes was by no means a loofe cafuift, determine,
without any hefitation, that no fort of regard is due
to any fuch promife, and that to think otherwife is
B b p. mere
374- Of Systems Part VI.
mere weaknefs and fiiperftition. Another party,
among whom we may reckon * fome of the ancient
fathers of the church, as well as fome verv eminent
modern cafuifts, have been of another opinion, and
have judged all fuch promifes obligatory.
If we confider the matter according to the com-
mon fentiments of mankind, we Ihall find that fome
regard would be thought due even to a promife of
this kind ; but that it is impofiible to determine how
much, by any general rule that will apply to all cafes
without exception. The man who was quite frank
and eafy rn making promifes of this kind, and who
violated them with as little ceremony, we mould not
choofe for our friend and companion. A gentleman
who mould promife a highwayman five pounds and
not perform, would incur fome blame. If the fum
promifed, however, was very great, it night be
more doubtful, what was proper to be dome. If it
was fuch, for example, that the payment of it would
entirely ruin the family of the promifer, if it was fo
great as to be fufficient for promoting the moll
ufeful purpofes, it would appear in fome meafure
criminal, at leaft extremely improper, to throw
it, for the fake of a punctilio, into fuch worth-
lefs hands. The man who mould beggar him-
felf, or who mould throw away an hundred
thoufand pounds, though he could afford that
vail fum, for the fake of obferving fuch a parole
with a thief, would appear to the common fenfe of
mankind, abfurd and extravagant in the higheft de-
gree. Such profufion would feem inconfiftent with
his duty, with what he owed both to himfelf and
others^
* St>Auguftine, la Placctte.
Sect. IV. of Moral Philosophy. 37$
others, and what, therefore, regard, to a promife ex-
torted in this manner, could by no means authorize.
To fix, however, by any precife rule, what degree
of regard ought to be paid to it, or what might be
the greateft fum which could be due from it, is evi-
dently impofiible. This would vary according to
the characters of the perfons, according to their cir-
cumftances, according to the folemnity of the promife,
and even according to the incidents of the rencoun^
ter : and if the promifer had been treated with a great
deal of that fort of gallantry, which is fometimes to
be met with in perfons of the moll abandoned cha-
racters, more would feem due than upon other occa-
fions. It may be faid in general, that exact propriety
requires the obfervance of all fuch promifes, when-
ever it is not inconfiftent with fome other duties that
are more facred •, fuch as regard to the public in-
terest, to thofe whom gratitude, whom natural affec-
tion, or whom the laws of proper beneficence fhould
prompt us to provide for. But, as was formerly
taken notice of, we have no precife rules to determine
what external actions are due from a regard to fuch
motives, nor, confequently, when it is that thofe
virtues are inconfiftent with the obfervance of fuch
promifes.
It is to be obferved, however, that whenever fuch
promifes are violated, though for the mod necefiary
reafons, it is always with fome degree of difhonour
to the perfon who made them. After they are made,
we may be convinced of the impropriety of obferv-
ing them. But ftill there is fome fault in having
made them. It is at leaft a departure from the
higheft and nobleft maxims of magnanimity and ho-
B b 4 nour.
$]6 Of Systems Part VL
nour. A brave man ought to die, rather than make
a promiie which he can neither keep without folly,
nor violate without ignominy. For fome degree of
ignominy always attends a fituation of this kind.
Treachery and falfehood are vices fo dangerous, fo
dreadful, and, at the fame time, fuch as may foeafily,
and, upon many occafions, fo fafely be indulged, that
we are more jealous of them than of almoft any
other. Our imagination therefore attaches the idea
of fhame to all violations of faith, in every circum-
ftance and in every fituation. They refemble, in
this refpect, the violations of chaftity in the fair fex,
a virtue of which, for the like reafons, we are excef-
fively jealous -, and our fentiments are not more de-
licate with regard to the one, than with regard to the
other. Breach of chaftity difhonours irretrievably.
No circumftances, no folicitation can excufe it ; no
forrow, no repentance atone for it. We are fo nice
in this refpect that even a rape difhonours, and the
innocence of the mind cannot, in our imagination,
warn out the pollution of the body. It is the fame
cafe with the violation of faith, when it has been fo-
lemnly pledged, even to the mod worthlefs of man-
kind. Fidelity is fo neceffary a virtue, that we ap-
prehend it in general to be due even to thofe to whom
nothing elfe is due, and whom we think it lawful to
kill and deftroy. It is to no purpofe that the perfon
who has been guilty of the breach of it, urges that he
promifed in order to fave his life, and that he broke
his promife becaufe it was inconfiftent with fome
other refpe&able duty to keep it. Thefe circum-
ftances may alleviate, but cannot entirely wipe out
hU difhonour. He appears to have been guilty of;
an action with which, in the imaginations of men,
fome degree of fhame is infeparably connected. He
has
Sect. IV. of Moral Philosophy. 377
has broke a promife which he had folemnly averred
he would maintain •, and his character, if not irre-
trievably ftained and polluted, has at lead a ridicule
affixed to it, which it will be very difficult entirely
to efface •, and no man, I imagine, who had gone
through an adventure of this kind, would be fond of
telling the (lory.
This inftance may ferve to (how wherein confifts
the difference between cafuiftry and jurifprudence,
even when both of them confider the obligations of
the general rules of juftice.
But though this difference be real and efTential,
though thofe two fciences propofe quite different
ends, the famenefs of the Subject has made fuch a
fimilarity between them, that the greater part of au-
thors whofe profeflfed defign was to treat of jurif-
prudence, have determined the different queftions
they examine, fometimes according to the principles
of that fcience, and fometimes according to thofe of
cafuiftry, without diftinguilhing, and, perhaps, with-
out being themfelves aware when they did the one,
and when the other.
The doctrine of the cafuifts, however, is by no
means confined to the confideration of what a con-
scientious regard to the general rules of juftice, would
demand of us. It embraces many other parts of
Chriftian and moral duty. What feems principally
to have given occafion to the cultivation of this
fpecies of fcience was the cuftom of auricular con-
feffion, introduced by the Roman Catholic fuperfti-
tion^ in times of barbarifm and ignorance. By that
inftitution,
37$ Of Systems Part VI.
inftitution, the mod fecret actions, and even the
thoughts of every perfon, which could be fufpected
of receding in the imalleft degree from the rules of
Chriftian purity, were to be revealed to the confefibr.
The confefibr informed his penitents whether, and in
what refpect they had violated their duty, and what
penance it behoved them to undergo, before he
could abfolve them in the name of the offended
Deity.
The con fcioufnefs, or even the fufpicion of having
done wrong, is a load upon every mind, and is ac-
companied with anxiety and terrour in all thofe who
are not hardened by long habits of iniquity. Men,
in this, as in all other diftrefifes, are naturally eager to
difburthen themfelves of the oppreflion which they
feel upon their thoughts, by unbofoming the agony
of their mind to fome perfon whofe fecrecy and dif-
cretion they can confide in. The fiiame, which they
fuffer from this acknowledgment, is fully compen-
lated by that alleviation of their uneafinefs which
the fympathy of their confident feldom fails to occa-
iion. It relieves them to find that they are not alto-
gether unworthy of regard, and that however their
paft conduct may be cenfured, their prefent difpo-
iition is at leaft approved of, and is perhaps fufficient
to compenfate the other, at leaft to maintain them in
fome degree of efteem with their friend. A nume-
rous and artful clergy had, in thofe times of fuper-
itiiion, infwuated themfelves into the confidence of
almoft every, private family. They pofiefifed all the
little learning which the times could afford, and their
manners, though in many refpects rude and difor-
derly, were polifhed and regular compared with thofe
of the age they livej in. They were regarded, there-
fore,
Sect. IV. of Moral Philosophy. 379
fore, not only as the great directors of all religious,
but of all moral duties. Their familiarity gave re-
putation to whoever was fo happy as to poffefs it,
and every mark of their difapprobation (lamped the
deeped ignominy upon all who had the misfortune
to fall under it. Being confidered as the great judges
of right and wrong, they were naturally confuked
about all fcruples that occurred, and it was reputable
for any perfon to have it known that he made thoie
holy men the confidents of all fuch fecrets, and took
no important or delicate ftep in his conduct without
their advice and approbation. It was not difficult
for the clergy, therefore, to get it eftablifhed as a ge-
neral rule, that they mould be entrufted with what
it had already become falhionable to entruft them,
and with what they generally would have been en-
trufted though no fuch rule had been eftablifhed.
To qualify themfelves for confefibrs became thus a
neceflary part of the ftudy of churchmen and divines,
and they were thence led to collect what are called
cafes of conlcience, nice and delicate fituations, in
which it is hard to determine whereabouts the propri-
ety of conduct may lie. Such works, they ima-
gined, might be of ufe both to the directors of con-
ferences and to thole who were to be directed ; and
hence the origin of books of cafuiftry.
The moral duties which fell under the confidera-
tion of the cafuifts were chiefly thofe which can, in
ibme meafure at leaft, be circumfcribed within gene-
ral rules, and of which the violation is naturally at-
tended with fome degree of remorfe and fome dread
of fuffering punifhment. The defign of that inftitu-
tion which gave occafion to their works, was to ap-
peafe thoje terrours of confeience which attend upon
the
380 O/Systems Part VI,
the infringement of fuch duties. But it is not every
virtue of which the defect is accompanied with any
very fevere compunctions of this kind, and no man
applies to his confelTor .for absolution, becaufe he did
not perform the mod generous, the moft friendly,
or the moft magnanimous action which, in his cir-
cumftances, it was pofiible to perform. In failures
of this kind, the rule that is violated is commonly
not very determinate, and is generally of fuch a na-
ture too, that though the obfervance of it might en-
title to honour and reward, the violation feems to ex-
pole to no pofitive blame, cenfure, or punifhment.
The exercife of fuch virtues the cafuifts ieem to have
regarded as a fort of works of fupererogation, which
could not be very ftrictly enacted, and which it was
therefore unnecefiary for them to treat of.
The breaches of moral duty, therefore, which
came before the tribunal of the confeflbr, and upon
that account fell under the cognizance of the cafuifts,
were chiefly of three different kinds.
Firft and principally, breaches of the rules of
juftice. The rules here are all exprefs and pofitive,
and the violation of them is naturally attended
with the confcioufnefs of deferving, and the dread
of fuffering punifhment both from God and man.
Secondly, breaches of the rules of chaftity. Thefe
in all groffer inftances are real breaches of the rules
of juftice, and no perfon can be guilty of them with-
out doing the moft unpardonable injury to fome
other. In fmaller inftances, when they amount only
, to a violation of thofe exact decorums which ought
to
Sect. IV. of Moral Philosophy. 381
to be obferved in the converfation of the two fexes,
they cannot indeed juftly be confidered as violations
of the rules of jultice. They are generally, how-
ever, violations of a pretty plain rule, and, at
lead in one of the fexes, tend to bring ignominy up-
on the perfon who has been guilty of them, and con-
iequently to be attended in the fcrupulous with fome
degree of fhame and contrition of mind.
Thirdly, breaches of the rules of veracity. The
violation of truth, it is to be obferved, is not always
a breach of ju dice, though it is fo upon many occa-
fions, and confequently cannot always expofe to any
external punifhment. The vice of common lying,
though a mod miferable meannefs, may frequently
do hurt to no perfon, and in this cafe no claim of
vengeance or fatisfa&ion can be due either to the
perfons impofed upon, or to others. But though
the violation of truth is not always a breach of juf-
tice, it is always a breach of a very plain rule, and
what naturally tends to cover with fhame the perfon
whohas been guilty of it. The great pleafure of
converfation, and indeed of fociety, arifes from a
certain correfpondence of fentiments and opinions,
from a certain harmony of minds, which like fo
many mufical inflruments coincide and keep time
with one another. But this mod delightful harmony
cannot be obtained unlefs there is a free communica-
tion of fentiments and opinions. We all defire,
upon this account, to feel how each other is affected,
to penetrate into each other's bofoms, and to obferve
the fentiments and affections which really fubfift
there. The man who indulges us in this natural paf-
fion, who invites us into his heart, who, as it were,
fets open the gates of his bread to us, feems to exer-
cife
382 O/Systems Part VI.
cife a fpecies of hofpitality more delightful than any
other. No man, who is in ordinary good temper,
can fail of pleafing, if he has the courage to utter
his real Ientiments as he feels them, and becaufe he
feels them. It is this unreferved fincerity which ren-
ders even the prattle of a child agreeable. How
weak and imperfect foever the views of the open-
hearted, we take pleaiure to enter into them, and en-
deavour, as much as we can, to bring down our own
underftanding to the level of their capacities, and to
regard every iubject in the particular light in which
they appear to have conftdered it. This pafTion to
difcover the real Ientiments of others is naturally fo
ftrong, that it often degenerates into a troublelbme
and impertinent curiofity to pry into thole fecrets of
our neighbours which they have very juftifiable rea-
fons for concealing, and, upon many occafions, it
requires prudence and a ftrong fenie of propriety ta
govern this, as well as all the other paflions of hu-
man nature, and to reduce it to that pitch which any
impartial fpectator can approve of. To difappoint
this curiofity, however, when it is kept within pro-
per bounds, and aims at nothing which there can be
any juft reafon for concealing, is equally difagreeable
in its turn. The man who eludes our mod innocent
queftions, who gives no fatisfaction to our moft in-
offenfive inquiries, who plainly wraps himfelf up in
impenetrable obfcurity, feems, as it were, to build a
wall about his bread. We run forward to get within
it, with all the eagernefs of harmlefs curiofity, and
feel ourfelves all at once pufhed back with the rudeft
and moft offenfive violence. If to conceal is fo dif-
agreeable, to attempt to deceive us is (till more dif-
gufting, even though we could pofiibly fuffer no-
thing by the fuccefs of the fraud. If we fee that our
companion
Se6t. IV. of Moral Philosophy. 383
companion wants to impofe upon us, if the fenti-
ments and opinions which he utters appear evidently
not to be his own, let them be ever fo fine, we can
derive no fort of entertainment from them \ and if
fomething of human nature did not now and then
tranfpire through all the covers which falfehood and
affectation are capable of wrapping around it, a pup-
pet of wood would be altogether as pleafant a com-
panion as a perfon who never fpoke as he was affected.
No man ever deceives, with regard to the moft infig-
nificant matters, who is not confcious of doing fome-
thing like an injury to thofe he converfes with ; and
who does not inwardly blufh and fhrink back with
fhame and confufion even at the fecret thought of a
detection. Breach of veracity, therefore, being al-
ways attended with lbme degree of remorfe and felf-
condemnation, naturally fell under the cognizance
of the cafuifts.
The chief fubjects of the works of the cafuifts,
therefore, were the confcientious regard that is due
to the rules of juftice ; how far we ought to refpecc
the life and property of our neighbour; the duty of
reflitution ; the laws of chaftity and modefty, and
wherein coniifted what, in their language, are called
the fins of concupifcence : the rules of veracity, and
the obligation of oaths, promifes, and contracts of
all kinds.
It may be faid in general of the works of the ca-
fuifts that they attempted, to no purpofe, to direct
by precife rules what belongs to feeling and fentiment
only to judge of. How is it poflible to afcertain by
rules the exact point at which, in every cafe, a deli-
cate fenfe of juftice begins to run into a frivolous and
weak
384 Of Systems Part VI.
weak fcrupulofity of confcience ? When it is that fe-
crecy and referve begin to grow into diflimulation ?
How far an agreeable irony may be carried, and at
what precife point it begins to degenerate into a de-
teftable lie ? What is the higheft pitch of freedom
and eafe of behaviour which can be regarded as
graceful and becoming, and when it is that it firft
begins to run into a negligent and thoughtlefs licen-
tioufnefs? With regard to all fuch matters, what
would hold good in any one cafe would fcarce do fo
exactly in any other, and what conftitutes the propri-
ety and happinefs of behaviour varies in every cafe
with thefmaileft variety of fituation. Books of ca-
fuiftry, therefore, are generally as ufelefs as they are
commonly tirefome. They could be of little ufe to
one who mould confult them upon occafion, even
fuppofing their decifions to be juft -, becaufe, notwith-
ftanding the multitude of cafes collected in them,
yet upon account of the flill greater variety of pofli-
ble circumftances, it is a chance, if among all thofe
cafes there be found one exactly parallel to that under
confideration. One, who is really anxious to do his
duty, muft be very weak, if he can imagine that
he has much occafion for them ; and with regard to
one who is negligent of it, the ftyle of thofe writings
is not fuch as is likely to awaken him to more atten-
tion. None of them tend to animate us to what is
generous and noble. None of them tend to foften
us to what is gentle and humane. Many of them,
on the contrary, tend rather to teach us to chicane
with our own confeiences, and by their vain fubtil-
ties ferve to authorize innumerable, evafive refine-
ments with regard to the moil eifential articles of our
duty. That frivolous accuracy which they attempt-
ed to introduce intafubje&s which do not admit of
it,
Sect. IV. of Moral Philosophy, 585
it, almoft neceflarily betrayed them into thofe danger
rous errours, and at the fame time rendered their
works dry and difagreeable, abounding in abftrufe
and metaphyfical distinctions, but incapable of ex-
citing in the heart any of thofe emotions which it is
the principal ufe of books of morality to excite*
The two nfeful parts of moral philofophy, there-
fore, are Ethics and Jurifprudence : cafuiftry ought
to be rejected altogether, and the ancient moraltfts
appear to have judged much better, who, in treating
of the fame fubjects, did not affect any fuch nice
exactnefs, but contented themfelves with defcribing,
in a general manner, what is the fentiment upon
which juftice, modefty, and veracity are founded,
and what is the ordinary way of acting to which thole
virtues would commonly prompt us.
Something, indeed, not unlike the doctrine of
the cafuifls, feems to have been attempted by feve-
ral philofophers. There is fomething of this kind
in the third book of Cicero's Offices, where he en-
deavours like a cafuift to gives rules for our conduct
in many nice cafes, in which it is difficult to deter-
mine whereabouts the point of propriety may lie. It
appears too, from many paflages in the fame books
that feveral other philofophers had attempted fome-
thing of the fame kind before him. Neither he nor
they, however, appear to have aimed at giving a
complete fyftem of this fort, but only meant to fhow
how fituations may occur, in which it is doubtful*
whether the higheft propriety of conduct confifts in
obferving or in receding from what, in ordinary
cafes, are the rules of duty.
C c Everv
386 O/Svstems Part VI.
Every fyftem of pofitive law may be regarded as
a more or lefs imperfect attempt towards a fyftem
of natural jurifprudence, or towards an enumeration
of the particular rules of juftice. As the violation of
juftice is what men will never fubmit to from one
another, the public magiftrate is under a neceflity of
employing the power of the commonwealth to enforce
the practice of this virtue. Without this precaution,
civil fociety would become a fcene of bloodfhed and
diforder, every man revenging himfelf at his own
hand whenever he fancied he was injured. To pre-
vent the confufion which would attend upon every
man's doing juftice to himfelf, the magiftrate, in all
governments that have acquired any confiderable au-
thority, undertakes to do juftice to all, and promi-
fes to hear and to redrefs every complaint of injury.
In all well-governed ftates too, not only judges are
appointed for determining the controverfies of indi-
viduals, but rules are prefcribed for regulating the
decifions of thofe judges ; and thefe rules are, in
general, intended to coincide with thofe of natural
juftice. It does not, indeed, always happen that
they do fo in every inftance. Sometimes what is
called the conftitution of the ftate, that is, the in-
tereft of the government ; fometirnes of the inter-
eft of particular orders of men who tyrannize the
government, warp the pofitive laws of the country
from what natural juftice would prefcribe. In fome
countries, the rudenefs and barbarifm of the people
hinder the-natural fentiments of juftice from arriving
at that accuracy and precifion which, in more civi-
lized nations, they naturally attain to. Their laws
are, like their manners, grofs and rude and undif-
tinguiQiing. Ir other countries the unfortunate
conftitution of their courts of judicature hinders any
regular fyftem of jurifprudence from ever eftablifh-
ing
Se6l.lV. of Moil Ah Philosophy. 387
ing itfelf among them, though the improved manners
of the people may be fuch as would admit of the
mod accurate. In no country do the decifions of
pofitive law coincide exactly, in every cafe, with
the rules which the natural ienfe of juftice would
dictate* Syftems of pofitive law, therefore, though
they deferve the greatest authority, as the records of
the fentiments of mankind in different ages and na-
tions, yet can never be regarded as accurate fyftems
of the rules of natural juftice.
It might have been expected that the feafonings
of lawyers, upon the different imperfections and im-
provements of the laws of different countries, ihould
have given occafion to an inquiry into what were the
natural rules of juftice independent of all pofitive
inftitution. It might have been expected that thele
reafonings fnould have led them to aim at eftablifh-
ing a fyftem of what might properly be called na-
tural jurifprudence, or a theory of the general prin-
ciples which ought to run through and be the foun-
dation of the laws of all nations. But tho' the rea-
fonings of lawyers did produce fomething of this
kind, and though no man has treated fyftematically
of the laws of any particular country, without in-
termixing in his work many obfervationsof this fort -t
it was very late in the world before any fuch general
fyftem was thought of, or before the philofophy of
law was treated of by itfelf, and without regard to
the particular inftitutions of any one nation. In none
of the ancient moralifts, do we find any attempt to-
wards a particular enumeration of the rules of juftice*
Cicero in his Offices, and Ariftotle in his Ethics,
treat of juftice in the fame general manner in which
they treat of all the other virtues. In the laws of
C c 2 Cicero
3«8 " Of Systems,^. Part VI.
Cicero and Plato, where we might naturally have ex-
pected fome attempts towards an enumeration of thofe
rules of natural equity, which ought to be enforced by
the pofitive laws of every country, there is however,
nothing of this kind. Their laws are laws of police,
not of juftice. Grotius feems to have been the firft,
who attempted to giv*e the world any thing like a
fyftem of thofe principles which ought to run through,
and be the foundation of the laws of all nations •, and
his treatife of the laws of war and peace, with all
its imperfections, is perhaps at this day the mod
complete work that has yet been given upon this
fubjedt. I fhali in another difcourfe endeavour to
give an account of the general principles of law and
government, and of the different revolutions they
have undergone in the different ages and periods of
fociety, not only in what concerns juftice, but in
what concerns police, revenue, and arms, and what-
ever elfe is the object of law. I mall not, therefore,
at prefent enter into any further detail concerning the
hiftory of jurifprudence.
THE END.
C 3*9 ]
C O N S I D E R A T I O N S
Concerning the FIRST
FORMATION of LANGUAGES,
AND THE
Different Genius of original and compounded
LANGUAGES.
_JL H E aflignation of particular names, to denote
particular objects, that is, the inftitution of nouns
fubftantive, would, probably, be one of the firfc
fteps towards the formation of language. Two
favages, who had never been taught to fpeak, but
had been bred up remote from the focieties of men,
would naturally begin to form that language by
which they would endeavour to make their mutual
wants intelligible to each other, by uttering certain
founds, whenever they meant to denote certain objects*
Thofe objects only which were mofl familiar to them,
and which they had mofl: frequent occafion to men-
tion, would have particular names ailigned to themu
The particular cave whole covering fheltered them
from the weather, the particular tree whofe fruit
relieved their hunger, the particular fountain whole
water allayed their third, would firfl be denoted by
the words cave, free, fountain, or by whatever other
C c 3 appellations
39Q FORMATION OF
appellations they might think proper, in that primi-
tive jargon, to mark them. Afterwards, when the
more enlarged experience of thefe favages had led
them to obferve, and their neceflary occafions
obliged them to make mention of, other caves, and
other trees, and other fountains, they would natu-
rally beftow, upon each of thofe new objects, the
lame name, by which they had been accuftomed to
expreis the fimilar object they were firft acquainted
with. The new objects had none of them any namp
of its own, but each of them exactly refembled ano-
ther object, which had fuch an appellation. It was
Jmpoflible that thofe favages could behold the new
objects, without recollecting the old ones ; and the
name of the old ones, to which the new bore fo clofe
a retemblance. When they, had occafion, therefore,
to mention, or to point out to each other, any of the
new objects, they would naturally utter the name of
the correspondent old one, of which the idea could not
fail, at that inftant, to prefent itfelf to their memory
jn the ftrongeft and liyelieft manner. And thus,
thofe words, which were originally the proper names
of individuals, would each of them infenfibly become
the common name of a multitude. A child that is
juft learning to fpeak, calls every perfon who comes
to the houfe its papa or its mama j and thus beflows
upon the whole fpecies thofe names which it had been
taught to apply to two individuals. I have known a
clown, who did not know the proper name of the ri-
ver which ran by his own door. It was the rivery he
faid, and hs never heard any other name for it.
His experience, it feems, had not led him to obferve
any other river. The general word river ^ there -
fore, was, it is evident, in his acceptance of it, a
proper name, fignifying an individual object. If this
perfon
LANGUAGES. 391
perfon had been carried to another river, would he
not readily have called it a river ? Could we fup-
pofe any perfon living on the banks of the Thames
fo ignorant, as not to know the general word river *
but to be acquainted only with the particular word
Thames, if he was brought to any other river, would
he not- readily call it a "Thames? This, in reality, is
no more than what they, who are well acquainted
with the general word, are very apt to do. An
Englifhman, defcribingany great river which he may
have feen in fome foreign country, naturally fays,
that it is another Thames. The Spaniards, when
they firft arrived upon the coaft of Mexico, and ob-
ferved the wealth, populoufnefs, and habitations of
that fine country, fo much fuperior to the favage na-
tions which they had been vifiting for fome time be-
fore, cried out, that it was another Spain. Hence it
was called New Spain ; and this name has ftuck to
that unfortunate country ever fince. We fay, in the
fame manner, of a hero, that he is an Alexander ; of
an orator, that he is a Cicero ; of a philofopher, that
he is a Newton. This way of fpeaking, which the
grammarians call an Antonomafia, and which is Hill
extremely common, though now not at all necefiary,
demonftrates how much mankind are naturally dif-
pofed to give to one object: the name of any other,
which nearly refembles it, and thus to denominate a
multitude, by what originally was intended to exprefs
an individual.
It is this application of the name of an individual
to a great? multitude of objects, whofe refemblance
naturally recalls the idea of that individual, and of
the name which expreffes it, that feems originally to
have given occafion to the formation of thofe clafies
C c 4 and
392 FORMATION OF
and affortments, which, in the fchools, are called
genera and fpecies, and of which the ingenious and
eloquent M. Rouffeau of Geneva*, finds himfelf
fo much at a lofs to account for the origin. What
constitutes a fpecies is merely a number of objects,
bearing a certain degree of relemblance to one ano-
ther, and on that account denominated by a fingle
appellation, which may be applied to exprefs any
one of them.
When the greater part of objects had thus been ar-
ranged under their proper claffes and affortments,
diftinguifhed by fuch general names, it was impof-
iible that the greater part of that almoft infinite num-
ber of individuals, comprehended under each particu-
lar afibrtment or fpecies, could have any peculiar or
proper names of their own, diflinct from the general
name of the fpecies. When there was occafion,
therefore, to mention any particular object, it often
became neceffary to diftinguifh it from the other ob-
jects comprehended under the fame general name,
either, firft, by its peculiar qualities -, or, fecondly,
by the peculiar relation which it flood in to fome
other things. Hence the neceffary origin of two other
fets of words, of which the one ftiould exprefs qua-
lity ; the other relation.
Nouns adjective are the words which exprefs qua-
lity confidered as qualifying, or, as the fchoolmen
fay, in concrete with, fome particular fubject. Thus
the word green expreffes a certain quality confidered
as qualifying, or as in concrete with, the particular
fubject
* Origine de 1'Inegalite. Partie premiere, p. 376, 377,
Edition d'Amfterdam/tles Oeuvres diverfes de J. J. RoufTeau,
LANGUAGES. 393
fubject to which it may be applied. Words of this
kind, it is evident, may ferve to diftinguifh particu-
lar objects from others comprehended under the fame
general appellation. The words green tree, for
example, might ferve to diftinguifh a particular tree
from others that were withered or blafted.
Prepofnions are the words which exprefs relation
confidered, in the fame manner, in concrete with the
co-relative object. Thus the prepofnions of, to, for9
with, by, above, below, &c. denote fome relation ful-
filling between the objects expreffed by the words
between which the prepofitions are placed ; and they
denote that this relation is confidered in concrete with
the co-relative object. Words of this kind ferve to
diftinguifh particular objects from others of the fame
fpecies, when thofe particular objects cannot be fo
properly marked out by any peculiar qualities of
their own. When we fay, the green tree of the meadowy
for example, we diftinguifh a particular tree, not
only by the quality which belongs to it, but by the
relation which it ftands in to another object.
As neither quality nor relation can exift in abftract,
it is natural to fuppofe that the words which denote
them confidered in concrete, the way in which we
always fee them fubfift, would be of much earlier
invention, than thofe which exprefs them confidered
in abftract, the way in which we never fee them fub-
fift. The words green and blue would, in all proba-
bility, be fooner invented than the words greennefs
and bluenefs , the words above and below, than the
words fuperiority and inferiority. To invent words
of the latter kind requires a much greater effort of
abftraction
394 FORMATION OF
abftraction than to invent thofe of the former. It is
probable, therefore, that fuch abftract terms would
be of much later inftitution. Accordingly, their
etymologies generally mow that they are fo, they
being generally derived from others that are con-
crete.
But though the invention of nouns adjective be
much more natural than that of the abftract nouns
fubftantive derived from them, it would ftill, howe-
ver, require a confiderable degree of abftraction and
generalization. Thofe, for example, who firft in-
vented the words, green, blue, red, and the other
names of colours, muft have obferved and compared
together a great number of objects, muft have re-
marked their refemblances and diflimilitudes in re-
flect of the quality of colour, and muft have ar-
ranged them, in their own minds, into different
clafles and afibrtments, according to thofe refem-
blances and diffimilitudes. An adjective is by na-
ture a general, and in fome meafure, an abftract word,
and neceflarily prefuppofes the idea of a certain fpe-
cies or afibrtment of things, to all of which it is
equally applicable. The word green could not, as we
were fuppofing might be the cafe of the word cave,
have been originally the name of an individual, and
afterwards have become, by what grammarians call
an Antonomafia the name of a fpecies. The word
green denoting, not the name of a fubftance, but the
peculiar quality of a fubftance, muft from the very
firft have been a general word, and confidered as
equally applicable to any other fubftance pofTeiTed
of the fame quality. The man who firft diftinguifhed
a particular object by the epithet of green, muft have
obferved other objects that were not green, from
which
LANGUAGES. 39S
which he meant to feparate it by this appellation.
The inditution of this name, therefore, fuppofes
companion. It likewiie fuppofes fome degree of al>
(traction. The perlbn who firft invented this appel-
lation mud have didinguifhed the quality from the
object to which it belonged, and mud have conceived
the object as capable of fubfifling without the qua-
lity. The invention, therefore, even of the fimpleft
nouns adjective, mud have required more metaphy-
fics than we are apt to be aware of. The different
mental operations, of arrangement or claffing, of
companion, and of abstraction, mud all have
been employed, before even the names of the differ-
ent colours, the lead metaphyfical of all nouns ad-
jective, could be indituted. From all which I infer,
that when languages were beginning to be formed,
nouns adjective would by no means be the words of
the earlied invention.
There is another expedient for denoting the dif-
ferent qualities of different fubdances, which as it re-
quires no abdraction, nor any conceived feparation
of the quality from the fubject, feems more natural
than the invention of nouns adjective, and which,
upon this account, could hardly fail, in the fird
formation of language, to be thought of before them.
This expedient is to make fome variation upon the
noun fubdantive itfelf, according to the different qua-
lities which it is endowed with. Thus, in many lan-
guages, the qualities both of fex and of the want of
fex, are expreffed by different terminations in the
nouns fubdantive, which denote objects fo qualified.
In Latin, for example, lupus, lupa ; equus, equa-, ju-
vencus, juvenca ; Julius, Julia ; Lucretius, Lucretia,
&C. .denote the qualities of male and female in the
396 FORMATION OF
animals and perfons to whom fuch appellations be-
long, without needing the addition of any adjective
for this purpofe. On the other hand, the words fo-
rum, pratum, plauftrum, denote by their peculiar ter-
mination the total abfence of fex in the different fub-
flances which they fland for. Both fex, and the want
of all fex, being naturally confidered as qualities
modifying and infeparable from the particular fub-
ftances to which they belong, it was natural to exprefs
them rather by a modification in the noun fubftan-
tive, than by any general and abftract word expreflive
of this particular fpecies of quality. The expreflion
bears, it is evident, in this way, a much more exad
analogy to the idea or object which it denotes, than
in the other. The quality appears, in nature, as a
modification of the fubftance, and as it is thus ex-
preffed, in language, by a modification of the noun
iubftantive, which denotes that fubftance, the qua-
lity and the fubject are, in this cafe, blended toge-
ther, if I may fay fo, in the exprefTion, in the fame
manner, as they appear to be in the object and in the
idea. Hence the origin of the mafculine, feminine,
and neutral genders, in all the ancient languages. By
means of thefe, the mod important of all distincti-
ons, that of fubftances into animated and inanimated,
and that of animals into male and female, feem to
have been fufflciently marked without the affiftance
of adjectives, or of any general names denoting this
mod extenfive fpecies of qualifications.
There are no more than thefe three genders m
any of the languages with which I am acquainted •,
that is to fay, the formation of nouns fubftantive,
can, by itfelf, and without the accompaniment of ad-
^ jectives,
LANGUAGES.
97
je&ives, exprefs no other qualities but thofe three
above-mentioned, the qualities of male, of female, of
neither male nor female. I mould not, however,
be furprifed, if, in other languages with which I am
unacquainted, the different formations of nouns fub-
ftantive ihould be capable of expreffing many other
different qualities. The different diminutives of the
Italian, and of fome other languages, do, in reality,
fometimes, exprefs a great variety of different modi-
fications in the fubftances denoted by thofe nouns
which undergo fuch variations.
It was impoffible, however, that nouns fubftan-
tive could, without lofing altogether their original
form, undergo fo great a number of variations, as
would be fufficient to exprefs that almoft infinite va-
riety of qualities, by which it might, upon different
occafions, be neceffary to fpecify and diftinguim.
them. Though the different formation of nouns
fubftantive, therefore, might, for fome time, fore-
ftall the neceffity of inventing nouns adjective, it was
impoffible that this neceffity could be foreftalled alto-
gether. When nouns adjective came to be invented,,
it was natural that they fhould be formed with fome
fimilarity to the fubflantives, to which they were to
ferve as epithets or qualifications. Men would na-
turally give them the fame terminations with the fub-
ftantives to which they were firft applied, and from
that love of fimilarity of found, from that delight in
the returns of the fame fyllables, which is in the
foundation of analogy in all languages, they would
be apt to vary the termination of the fame adjective,
according as they had occafion to apply it to a maf-
culine, to a feminine, or to a neutral fubftantive,
thief
398 FORMATION OF
They would fay, magnus lupus, magna lupa^ magnum
pratum, when they meant to exprefs a great he wolf,
a great Jhe wolf, a great meadow.
This variation, in the termination of the noun
adjective, according to the gender of the fubftantive,
which takes place in all the ancient languages, feems
to have been introduced chiefly for the fake of a cer-
tain fimilarity of found, of a certain fpecies of rhyme,
which is naturally fo very agreeable to the human
ear. Gender, it is to be obferved, cannot properly
belong to a noun adjective, the fignification of which
is always precifely the fame, to whatever fpecies of
fubftantives it is applied. When we fay, a great
man, a great woman, the word great has precifely the
fame "meaning in both cafes, and the difference of the
fex in the fubjects to which it may be applied, makes
no fort of difference in its fignification. Magnus,
magna, magnum, in the fame manner, are words
which exprefs precifely the fame quality, and the
change of the termination is accompanied with no
fort of variation in the meaning. Sex and gender are
qualities which belong to fubftances, but cannot be-
long to the qualities of fubftances. In general, no
quality, when confidered in concrete, or as qualifying
fome particular fubject, can itfclf be conceived as the
fubject of any other quality •, though when confi-
dered in abftract it may. No adjective therefore
can qualify any other adjective. A great good man,
means a man.who is both great and good. Both the
adjectives qualify the fubftantive •, they do not qua-
lify one another. On the other hand, when we fay,
the great goodnefs of the man, the word goo dnefs deno-
ting a quality conficjered in abftract, which may it-
felf be the fubject of other qualities, is upon that
account
LANGUAGES. 399
account capable of being qualified by the word,
great.
If the original invention of nouns adje&ive would
be attended with fo much difficulty, that of prepofi-
tions would be accompanied with yet more. Every
prepofition, as I have already obferved, denotes fome
relation confidered in concrete with the co-relative
object. The prepofition above, for example, denotes
the relation of fuperiority, not in abftract, as it is
cxprefftd by the word fuperiority, but in concrete
with fome co-relative object. In this phrafe, for ex-
ample, the tree above the cave, the word above, ex-
prefTes a certain relation between the tree and the
cave, and it exprefles this relation in concrete with
the co- relative object, the cave. A prepofition al-
ways requires, in order to complete the fenfe, fome
other word to come after it ; as may be obferved in
this particular inftance. Now, I fay, the original
invention of fuch words would require a yet greater
effort ofabftra&ion and generalization, than that of
nouns adjective. Firft of all, a relation is, in itfelf,
a more metaphyfical objed than a quality. Nobody
can be at a lots to explain what is meant by a quali-
ty ; but few people will find themfelves able to ex-
prefs, very diftindtly, what is underftood by a rela-
tion. Qualities are almoft always the objects of our
external fenfes -, relations never are. No wonder,
therefore, that the one fet of objects mould be fo
much more comprehenfible than the other. Second-
ly, though prepofitions always exprefs the relation
which they (land for, in concrete with the co-relative
object, they could not have originally been formed
without a confiderable effort of abftraction. A pre-
pofition denotes a relation, and nothing but a relation.
But
4oo FORMATIONOF
But before men could inftitute a word, which
fignified a relation, and nothing but a relation,
they mud have been able, in fome meaiure, to con-
fider this relation abftractedly from the related ob-
jects •, fince the idea of thofe objects does not, in any
refpect, enter into the fignification of the prepofition.
The invention of luch a word, therefore, muft have
required a confiderable degree of abftraction. Third-
ly, a prepofition is from its nature a general word,
which, from its very firft inftitution, muft have
been confidered as equally applicable to denote any
other fimilar relation. The man who firft invented
the word above, muft not only have diftinguifhed, in
fome meafure, the relation of fuperiority from the ob-
jects which were fo related, but he muft alio have
diftinguilhed this relation from other relations, fuch
as, from the relation of inferiority denoted by the
word below, from the relation of juxtapofition> ex-
preffed by the word befede, and the like. He muft
have conceived this word, therefore, as exprefllve of
a particular fort or fpecies of relation diftinct from
every other, which could not be done without a
confiderable effort of comparifon and generalization.
Whatever were the difficulties, therefore, which
embarrafled the firft invention of nouns adjective,
the fame, and many more, muft have embarrafied
that of prepofitions. If mankind, therefore, in the
firft formation of languages, feem to have, for fome
time, evaded the neceility of nouns adjective, by
varying the termination of the names of fubftances,
according as thefe varied in fome of their moft impor-
tant qualities, they would much more find them-
felves under the neceility of evading, by fome fimi-
lar contrivance, the yet more difficult invention of
prepofitions.
LANGUAGES. 401
prepofitions. The different cafes in the ancient
languages is a contrivance of precifely the fame kincf .
The genitive and dative cafes, in Greek and Latin,
evidently fupply the place of the prepofitions 3 and
by a variation in the noun fubftantive, which (lands
for the co- relative term, exprefs the relation which
i'ubfi (Is between what is denoted by that noun fub-
ftantive, and what is expreffed by fome other word
in the fentence. In thefe expreffions, for example,
fruclus arborise the fruit of the tree ; facer Herculi,
f acred to Horcules ; the variations made in the co- re-
lative words, arbor and Hercules, exprefs the fame
relations which are expreffed in Englifh by the prepo-
fitions </and to.
To exprefs a relation in this manner, did not re-
quire any effort of abftra&ion. It was not here ex-
preffed by a peculiar word denoting relation and no-,
thing but relation, but by a variation upon the co-
relative term. It was expreffed here, as k appears in
nature, not as fomething feparaced and detached, but
as thoroughly mixed and blended with the co- rela-
tive object.
To exprefs relation in this manner, did not require
any effort of generalization. The words arboris and
Herculi, while they involve in their fignification the
fame relation expreffed by the Englifh prepofitions
of and to, are not, like thofe prepofitions, general
words, which can be applied to exprefs the fame re-
lation between whatever other objects it might be
obferved to fubfift.
To exprefs relation in this manner did not require
any effort of comparifon. The words arboris and
D d Herculi
402 FORMATION 0 F
Herculi are not general words intended to denote a
particular fpecies of relations which the inventors of
rhofe expreflions meant, in confequence of fome fort
cf comparifon, to feparate and diftinguifh from
every other fort of relation. The example, indeed,
of this contrivance would foon probably be fol-
lowed, and whoever had occafion to exprefs a firm-
lar relation between any other objedts would be very
apt to do it by making a fimilar variation on the
name of the co-relative object. This, I fay, would
probably, or rather certainly happen •, but it would
happen without any intention or forefight in thofe
who firft fet the example, and who never meant to
eftablifh any general rule. The general rule would
eftabliih itfelf infenfibly, and by flow degrees, in
confequence of that love of analogy and fimilarity
of found, which is the foundation of by far the
greater part of the rules of grammar.
To exprefs relation therefore, by a variation in
the name of the co-relative object, requiring neither
abstraction, nor generalization, nor comparifon of
any kind, would, at firft, be much more natural and
eafy, than to exprefs it by thofe general words called
prepofitions, of which the firft invention mud have
demanded fome degree of all thofe operations.
The number of cafes is different in different lan-
guages. There are five in the Greek, fix in the
Latin, and there are faid to be ten in the Armenian
language. It mud have naturally happened that
there mould be a greater or a fmaller number of
cafes, according as in the terminations of nouns fub-
ftantive the firft formers of any language happened
to have eftablifhed a greater or a fmaller number of
variations,
LANGUAGES. 405
variations, in order to exprefs the different relations
they had occafion to take notice of, before the in-
vention of thofe more general and abflracl: prepofi-
tions which could fupply their place.
It is, .perhaps, worth while to obferve that thofe
prepofitions, which in modern languages hold the
place of the ancient cafes, are, of all others, the
mod genera], and abflracl:, and metaphyfical ; and
of confequence, would probably be the laft invented.
Afk any man of common acutenefs, "What relation
is expreffed by the prepofition above ? He will readily
anfwer, that offuperiority. By the prepofition below ?
He will as quickly reply, that of inferiority. But afk
him, what relation is expreffed by the prepofition of,
and, if he has not beforehand employed his thoughts
a good deal upon thefe fubjedls, you may fafely
allow iiim a week to confider of his anfwer. The
prepofitions above and below do not denote any of
the relations expreffed by the cafes in the ancient
languages. But the prepofition of, denotes the fame
relation, which is in them expreffed by the genitive
cafe ; and which, it is eafy to obferve, is of a very
metaphyfical nature. The prepofition of denotes
relation in general, confidered in concrete with the
co-yrelative object. It marks that the noun fub-
ftantive which goes before ir, is fomehow or other
related to that which comes after it, but without in
any refpecl afcertaining, as is done by the prepofition
above, what is the peculiar nature of that relation.
We often apply ir, therefore, to exprefs the moft
oppofite relations •, becaufe, the moft oppofite rela-
tions agree fo far that each of them comprehends in
it the general idea or nature of a relation. We fay,
the father of the fon, and the f on of the father ± the
D d 2 fir-
404 FORMATION OF
fir-trees of the foreft, and the foreft of the fir-trees.
The relation in which the father (lands to the fon,
is, it is evident, a quite oppofite relation to that in
which the fon (lands to the father \ that in which the
parts Hand to the whole, is quite oppofite to that in
which the whole {lands to the parts. The word of
however, ferves very well to denote all thofe rela-
tions, becaufe in itfelf it denotes no particular rela-
tion, but only relation in general », and lb far as any
particular relation is collected from fuch expreffions,
it is inferred by the mind, not from the prepofition
itfelf, but from the nature and arrangement of the
fubflantives, between which the prepofition is placed.
What I have faid concerning the prepofition of,
may in fome meafure be applied to the prepofitions,
to, for, with, by, and to whatever other prepofitions
are made ufe of in modern languages, to fupply the
place of the ancient cafes. They all of them ex-
prefs very abftracl: and metaphyseal relations, which
any man, who takes the trouble to try it, will find
it extremely difficult to exprefs by nouns fubftantive,
in the fame manner as we may exprefs the relation
denoted by the prepofition above, by the noun fub-
ftantive fuperiority. They all of them, however, ex-
prefs fome fpecific relation, and are, confequently,
none of them fo abftracl: as the prepofition of,
which may be regarded as by far the moft meta-
physeal of all prepofitions. The prepofitions there-
fore, which are capable of fupply ing the place of
the ancient cafes, being more abftracl: than the other
prepofitions, would naturally be of more difficult
invention. The relations at the fame time which
thofe prepoiitioss exprefs, are, of all others, thofe
which we have moft frequent occafion to mention.
The
LANGUAGES. 405
The prepofitions above, below, near, within, without,
againft, &c. are much more rarely made ufe of, in
modern languages, than the prepofitions of, to, for,
with, from, by, A prepofnion of the former kind
will not occur twice in a page ; we can fcarce com-
pofe a fingle fentence without the afTiftance of one
or two of the latter. If thefe latter prepofitions,
therefore, which fupply the place of the cafes,
would be of fuch difficult invention on account of
their abftractednefs, fome expedient, to fupply their
place, mud have been of indifpenfable necefiity, on
account of the frequent occafion which men have to
take notice of the relations which they denote. But
there is no expedient fo obvious, as that of varying
the termination of one of the principal words.
It is, perhaps, unneceffary to obferve, that there
are fome of the cafes in the ancient languages, which,
for particular reafons, cannot be reprefented by any
prepofitions. Thefe are the nominative, accufative,
and vocative cafes. In thofe modern languages^
which do not admit of any fuch variety in the ter-
minations of their nouns fubftantive, the corre-
fpondent relations are exprefied by the place of the
words, and by the order and conftruction of the fen-
tence.
As men have frequently occafion to make men-
tion of multitudes as well as of fingle objects, it
became necefTary that they mould have fome method
of exprefiing number. Number may be expreffed
either by a particular word, exprefiing number in
general, fuch as the words many, more, &c. or by
fome, variation upon the words which exprefs the
things numbered. It is this laft expedient which
D d 3 mankind
4o6 FORMATION OF
mankind would probably have recourfe to, in the
infancy of language. Number, confidered in gene*
raff without relation to any particular fet of objects
numbered, is one of the mod abftract and me-
taphyseal ideas, which the mind of man is capable
of forming •, and, confequently, is not an idea,
which would readily occur to rude mortals, who
were juft beginning to form a language. They
would naturally, therefore, diftinguifh when they
talked of a fingle, and when they talked of a mul-
titude of objects, not by any metaphyseal adjectives,
luch as the Englifh, a, an, many* but by a variation
upon the termination of the word which fignified
the objects numbered. Hence the origin of the
fingular and plural numbers, in all the ancient lan-
guages j and the fame diftinction has likewife been
retained in all the modern languages, at lead, in the
greater part of words.
All primitive and nncompounded languages feem
to have a dual, as well as a plural number. This
is the cafe of the Greek, and I am told of the He-
brew, of the Gothic, and of many other languages.
In the rude beginnings of fociety, one, two, and more,
might poflibly be all the numeral diflinctions which
mankind would have any occafion to take notice of.
Thefe they would find it more natural to exprefs,
by a variation upon every particular noun fubftan-
tive, than by fuch general and abftract words as one,
two, three, four, &c. Thefe words, though cuftom
has rendered them familiar to us, exprefs, perhaps,
the mod fubtile and refined abftractions, which the
mind of man is capable of forming. Let any one
confider within himfelf, for example, what he means
by
LANGUAGES. 407
by the word three, which fignifies neither three (hil-
lings, nor three pence, nor three men, nor three
horfes, but three in general; and he will eafily fa-
tisfy himfelf that a word, which denotes fo very me-
taphyfical an abftraction, could not be either a very
obvious or a very early invention. I have read of fome
favage nations, whofe language was capable of ex-
preffing no more than the three firft numeral diftinc-
tions. But whether it exprefTed thofe diftinctions by-
three general words, or by variations upon the nouns
fubftantive, denoting the things numbered, I do
not remember to have met with any thing which
could determine.
As all the fame relations which fubfift between
fingle, may likewife fubfift between numerous ob-
jects, it is evident there would be occafion for the
fame number of cafes in the dual and in the plural,
as in the lingular number. Hence the intricacy and
complexnefs of the declenfions in all the ancient
languages. In the Greek there are five cafes in
each of the three numbers, confequently fifteen
in all.
As nouns adjective, in the ancient languages,
varied their terminations according to the gender of
the fubftantive to which they were applied, fo did
they likewife, according to the cafe and the number.
Every noun adjective in the Greek language, there-
fore, having three genders, and three numbers, and
five cafes in each number, may be confidered as
having five and forty different variations. The firft
formers of language feem to have varied the termi-
nation of the adjective, according to the cafe and
the number of the fubftantive, for the fame reafon
D d 4 which
408 FORMATION OF
which made them vary according to the gender ; the
love of analogy, and of a certain regularity of found.
In the fignification of adjectives there is neither cafe
nor number, and the meaning of fuch words is
always precifely the fame, notwithstanding all the
variety of termination under which they appear.
Magnus vir, magni viri, magnorum virorum j a great
man, of a great man, of great men \ in all thefe ex-
preffions the words magnus, magni, magnorum, as well
as the word great, have precifely one and the fame
fignification, though the fubftantives to which they
are applied have not. The difference of termina-
tion in the noun adjective is accompanied with no
fort of difference in the meaning. An adjective
denotes the qualification of a noun fubftantive. But
the different relations in which that noun fubftantive
may occafionally ftand, can make no fort of diffe-
rence upon its qualification.
If the declenfions of the ancient languages are
fo very complex, their conjugations are infinitely
more fo. And the complexnefs of the one is founded
upon the fame principle with that of the other, the
difficulty of forming, in the beginnings of language,
abftract and general terms.
Verbs mufl neceffarily have been coeval with the
very firft attempts towards the formation of lan-
guage. No affirmation can be exprefled without the
affi fiance of fome verb. We never fpeak but in or-
der to exprefe our opinion that fomething either is or
is not. But the word denoting this event, or this
matter of fact, which is the fubject of our affirma-
tion, muft always be a verb.
^ Imperfonal
LANGUAGES. 409
Imperfonal verbs, which exprefs in one word a
complete event, which preferve in the expreflion that
perfect fimplicity and unity, which there always is in
the object and in the idea, and which fuppofe no ab~
fraction, or metaphyfical divifion of the event into
its feveral conftituent members of fubject and attri-
bute, would, in all probability, be the fpecies of
verbs firft invented. The verbs pluit, it rains ; nin-
gity it fnows ; tonaty it thunders ♦, lucet, it is day ♦,
turbatur, there is a confufiony &c. each of them ex-
prefs a complete affirmation, the whole of an event,
with that perfect fimplicity and unity with which
the mind conceives it in nature. On the contrary, the
phrafes, Alexander ambulat, Alexander walks *, Petrus
fedety Peter fits, divide the event, as it were, into two
parts, the perfon or fubject, and the attribute, or
matter of fad, affirmed of that fubject. But in na-
ture, the idea or conception of Alexander walking, is
as perfectly and completely one fingle conception, as
that of Alexander not walking. The divifion of
this event, therefore, into two parts, is altogether ar-
tificial, and is the effect of the imperfection of lan-
guage, which, upon this, as upon many other occa-
fions, fupplies, by a number of words, the want of
one, which could exprefs at once the whole matter of
fact that was meant to be affirmed. Every body
mufl obferve how much more fimplicity there is in
the natural expreflion, plait, than in the more artifi-
cial expreflions, imber decidit, the rain falls ; or,
tempeftas eft pluvia, the weather is rainy. In thefe
two laft expreflions, the fimple event, or matter of
fact, is artificially fplit and divided, in the one, into
two •, in the other, into three parts. In each of them
it is exprefifed by a fort of grammatical circumlocu-
tion,
4io FORMATION OF
tion, of which the fignifkancy is founded upon a
certain metaphyfical analyfis of the component parts
of the idea exprefTed by the word phut. The firft
verbs, therefore, perhaps even the firft words, made
ufe of in the beginnings of language, would in all
probability be fuch imperfonal verbs. It is obferved
accordingly, I am told, by the Hebrew Gramma-
rians, that the radical words of their language, from
which all the others are derived, are ail of them
verbs, and imperfonal verbs.
It is eafy to conceive how, in the progrefs of lan-
guage, thofe imperfonal verbs mould become perfo-
nal. Let us iuppofe, for example, that the word
venit y it comes, was originally an imperfonal verb,
and that it denoted, not the coming of fomething in
general, as at prefent, but the coming of a particular
object, fuch as the Lion. The firft favage inventors
of language, we mail Iuppofe, when they obferved
the approach of this terrible animal, were accuftom-
ed to cry out to one another, venit, that is, the lion
comes ; and that this word thus exprefTed a complete
event, without the afliftance of any other. After-
wards, when, on the further progrefs of language,
they had begun to give names to particular fub-
ftances, whenever they obferved the approach of
any other terrible object, they would naturally join
the name of that object to the word venit, and cry
out, venit urfus, venit lupus. By degrees the word
venit would thus come to fignify the coming of any
terrible object,- and not merely the coming of the
lion. It would now therefore, exprefs, not the com-
ing of a particular object, but the coming of an ob-
ject of a particular kind. Having become more ge-
neral in its fignificatiott, it could no longer reprefent
any
LANGUAGES. 411
any particular diftincl: event by itfelf, and without
the afliftance of a noun fubftantive, which might
ferve to afcertain and determine its fignification. It
would now, therefore, have become a perfonal, in-
ftead of an imperfonal verb. We may eafily con-
ceive how, in the further progrefs of fociety, it might
ftill.grow more general in its fignification, and come
to fignify, as at prefent, the approach of any thing
whatever, whether good, bad, or indifferent.
It is probably in fome fuch manner as this, that
almoft all verbs have become perfonal, and that
mankind have learned by degrees to fplit and divide
almoft every event into a great number of metaphy-
fical parts, expreffed by the different parts of fpeech,
varioufly combined in the different members of every
phrafe and fentence. * The fame fort of progrefs
feems to have been made in the art of fpeaking as
in the art of writing. When mankind firft began to
attempt to exprefs their ideas by writing, every cha-
racter reprefented a whole word. But the number
of words being almoft infinite, the memory found
itfelf quite loaded and oppreffed by the multitude of
characters
* As the far greater part of Verbs exprefs, at prefent, not an
event, but the attribute of an event, and, confequently, require
a fubjeft, or nominative cafe, to complete their fignification,
fome grammarians, not having attended to this progrefs of nature,
and being defirous to make their common rules quite univerfal,
and without any exception, have infilled that all verbs required a
nominative, either exprefled or underftood ; and have, accord-
ingly put themfelves to the torture to find fome awkward nomi-
natives to thofe few verbs, which flill exprefling a complete event,
olainly admit of none- Pluit, for example, according to Sanftius*
1 means flwvia plait, in Englim, the rain rains, See Sanclii Mi-
nerva, 1. 5. c. rf
4i2 FORMATION OF
characters which it was obliged to retain. Neceffity
taught them, therefore, to divide words into their
elements, and to invent characters which mould re-
prefent, not the words themfelves, but the elements
of which they were compofed. In confequence of
this invention, every particular word came to be re-
prefented, not by one character, but by a multitude
of characters •, and the expreflion of it in writing be-
came much more intricate and complex than before.
But though particular words were thus reprefented
by a greater number of characters, the whole lan-
guage was exprefied by a much fmaller, and about
four and twenty letters were found capable of fup-
plying the place of that immenfe multitude of cha-
racters, which were requifite before. In the fame
manner, in the beginnings of language, men feem to
have attempted to exprefs every particular event,
which they had occafion to take notice of, by a par-
ticular word, which exprefied at once the whole of
that event. But as the number of words muft, in
this cafe, have become really infinite, in confequence
of the really infinite variety of events, men found
themfelves partly compelled by neceffity, and partly
conducted by nature, to divide every event into
what may be called its metaphyfical elements, and to
inftitute words, which mould denote not fo much
the events, as the elements of which they were com-
pofed. The expreflion of every particular event,
became in this manner more intricate and complex,
but the whole fyftem of the language became more
coherent, more connected, more eafily retained and
comprehended.
When verbs, from being originally imperfonal had
thus, by the divifioo of the event into its metaphy-
fical
LANGUAGES. 4iS
fical elements, become perfonal, it is natural to fup~
pofe that they would firft be made ufe of in the third
perfon lingular. No verb is ever uled imperfonally
in our language, nor, fo far as I know, in any other
modern tongue. But in the ancient languages,
whenever any verb is ufed imperfonally, it is always
in the third perfon fingular. The termination of
thofe verbs, which are ftiil always imperfonal, is
conftantly the fame with that of the third perfon fin-
gular of perfonal verbs. The confideration of thefe
circumftances, joined to the naturalnefs of the thing
itfelf, may ferve to convince us that verbs firfc be-
came perfonal in what is now called the third perfon
fingular.
But as the event, or matter of fact, which is ex-
preffed by a verb, may be affirmed either of the per-
fon who fpeaks, or of the perfon who is fpoken to,
as well as of fome third perfon or object, it became
neceffary to fall upon fome method of exprefTing
thefe two peculiar relations of the event. In the
Englifh language this is commonly done, by pre-
fixing, what are called the perfonal pronouns, to the
general word which expreffes the event affirmed.
I came y you came^ he or it came\ in thefe phrafes the
event of having come is, in the firft, affirmed of the
fpeaker ; in the fecond, of the perfon fpoken to j in
the third, of fome other perfon, or object. The firft
formers of language, it may be imagined, might have
done the fame thing, and prefixing in the fame man-
ner the two firft perfonal pronouns, to the fame ter-
mination of the verb, which exprefTed the third per-
fon fingular, might have faid, ego venit, tu venit%
as well as ilk or illudvenit, And I make no doubt
but
4H FORMATION OF
but they would have done fo, if at the time when
they had firft occafion to txprefs thefe relations of the
verb, there had been any fuch words as either ego or
tu in their language. But in this early period of the
language, which we are now endeavouring to de-
fcribe, it is extremely improbable that any fuch
words would be known. Though cuftom has now
rendered them familiar to us, they, both of them,
exprefs ideas extremely metaphyseal and abftract.
The word /, for example, is a word of a very parti-
cular fpecies. Whatever fpeaks may denote itfelf by
this peribnal pronoun. The word I, therefore, is a
general word, capable of being predicated, as the lo-
gicians fay, of an infinite variety of objects. It dif-
fers, however, from all other general words in this
refpect ; that the obje&s of which it may be predi-
cated, do not form any particular fpecies of objects
diftinguiQied from all others. The word /, does
not, like the word man, denote a particular clafs of
objects, feparated from all others by peculiar qua-
lities of their own. It is far from being the name of
a fpecies, but, on the contrary, whenever it is made
ufe of, it always denotes a precife individual, the par-
ticular perfon who then fpeaks. It may be faid to
be, at once, both what the logicians call, a Angular,
and what they call, a common term ; and to join in
its fignification the feemingly oppofite qualities of the
moft precife individuality, and the moil extenfive
generalization. This word, therefore, exprefling fo
very abftract and metaphyfical an idea, would not
eafily or readily occur to the firft formers of language.
What are called the perfonal pronouns, it may be
obferved, are among the laft words of which chil-
dren learn to make life* A child, fpeaking of itfelf,
fays,
LANGUAGES. 415
fays, Billy walks, Billy fits, inftead of / walk, I fit.
As in the beginnings of language, therefore, man-
kind feem to have evaded the invention of at leaft the
more abftract propofitions, and to have exprefTed the
fame relations which thefe now ftand for, by vary-
ing the termination of the co-relative term, fo they
likewife would naturally attempt to evade the necef-
lity of inventing thofe more abftracl pronouns by va-
rying the termination of the verb, according as the
event which it exprefTed was intended to be affirmed
of the firft, fecond, or third perfon. This feems,
accordingly, to be the univerfal practice of all the
ancient languages. In Latin, veni, venifti, venit, fuf-
flciently denote, without any other addition, the dif-
ferent events expreffed by the Englifh phrafes, /
came, you came, he', or -it came. The verb would,
for the fame reafon, vary its termination, according
as the event was intended to be affirmed of the firft,
fecond, or third perfons plural •, and what is expreffed
by the Englifh phrafes, we came, ye came, they came,
would be denoted by the Latin words, venimus, ve-
nifiis, venerunt. Thofe primitive languages, too,
which, upon account of the difficulty of inventing
numeral names, had introduced a dual, as well as a
plural number, into the declenfion of their nouns
iubftantive, would probably, from analogy, do the
fame thing in the conjugations of their verbs. And
thus in all thofe original languages, we might ex-
pect to find, at leaft fix, if not eight or nine varia-
tions, in the termination of every verb, according
as the event which it denoted was meant to be affirm-
ed of the firft, fecond, or third perfons fingular,
dual, or plural. Thefe variations again being re-
peated, along with others, through all its dif-
ferent tenfes, modes and voices, mud neceffarily
have
4i6 FORMATION OF
have rendered their conjugations (till more intricate
and complex than their declenfions.
Language would probably have continued upon
this footing in all countries, nor would ever have
grown more fimple in its declenfions and conjugati-
ons, had it not become more complex in its co.mp.o-
fition, in conlequence of the mixture of feveral lan-
guages with one another, occafioned by the mixture
of different nations. As long as any language was
fpoke by thofe only who learned it in their infancy,
the intricacy of its declenfions and conjugations
could occafion no great embarrailment. The far
greater part of thofe who had occafion to fpeak ir5
had acquired it at h very early a period of their
lives, fo infenfibly and by fuch flow degrees, that
they were fcarce ever fenfible of the difficulty. Blu
when two nations came to be mixed with one ano-
ther, either by conqueft or migration, the caie
would be very different. Each nation, in order to
make itfelf intelligible to thofe with whom it was
under the neceffity of converfing, would be obligee
to learn the language of the other. The greater parv
of individuals too, learning the new language, not
by art, or by remounting to its rudiments and firfc
principles, but by rote, and by what they commonly
heard in converfation, would be extremely perplexed
by the intricacy of its declenfions and conjugations
They would endeavour, therefore, to fupply their
ignorance of thefe, by whatever fhift the language
could afford them. Their ignorance of the declenfi-
ons they would naturally fupply by the ufe of pre-
pofitions ; and a Lombard, who was attempting to
fpeak Latin, and wanted to exprefs that fuch a per-
fon was a citizen orRome, or a benefactor to Rome,
if
Languages. 417
if he happened not to be acquainted with the geni-
tive and dative cafes of the word Roma, would natu-
rally exprefs himfelf by prefixing the prepofitions ad
and de to the nominative ; and, inftead of Roma,
would fay, ad Roma, and de Roma. Al Roma and
di Roma, accordingly, is the manner in which the
prefent Italians, the defcendants of the ancient Lom-
bards and Romans, exprefs this and all other fimilar
relations. And in this manner prepofitions feem to
have been introduced, in the room of the ancient
declenfions. The fame alteration has, I am informed,
been produced upon the Greek language, fince the
taking of Conftantinople by the Turks. The words
are, in a great meafure, the fame as before-, buc
the grammar is entirely loft, prepofitions having
come in the place of the old declenfions. This
change is undoubtedly a fimplification of the langu-
age, in point of rudiments and principle. It intro-
duces, inftead of a great variety of declenfions, one
univerfal declenfion, which is the fame in every
word, of whatever gender, number, or termination.
A fimilar expedient enables men, in the fituation
above mentioned, to get rid of almoft the whole in-
tricacy of their conjugations. There is in every
language a verb, known by the name of the fubftan-
tive verb ; in Latin, fum -, in Englifh, / am. This
verb denotes not the exiftence of any particular
event, but exiftence in general. It is, upon this
account, the moft abftract and metaphyseal of all
verbs •, and, confequently, could by no means be a
a word of early invention. When it came to be in-
vented, however, as it had all the tenfes and modes
of any other verb, by being joined with the paffive
participle, it was capable of fupplying the place of
E e chc
4i8- FORMATION OF
the whole paflive voice, and of rendering this part of
their conjugations as fimple and uniform, as the ufe
of prepofitions had rendered their declenfions. A
Lombard, who wanted to fay, I am loved, but could
not recoiled the word amor, naturally endeavoured
to fupply his ignorance, by faying, ego fum amatus.
Jo fono amato, is at this day the Italian expreflion*
which correfponds to the Englifh. phrafe above men-
tioned.
There is another verb, which, in the fame man-
ner, runs through all languages, and which is diftin-
guifhed by the name of the poffeflive verb ; in Latin,
habeo\ in Englifh, I have. This verb, likewife, de-
notes an event of an extremely abftract and metaphy-
fical nature, and, confequently, cannot be fuppofed
to have been a word of the earlieft invention. When
it came to be invented, however, by being applied
to the paflive participle, it was capable of fupplying
a great part of the active voice, as the fubftantive
verb had fupplied the whole of the paflive. A Lom-
bard, who wanted to fay, I had loved, but could not
recollecl the word amaveram, would endeavour to
fupply the place of it, by faying either ego babebam
amafum, or ego habui amatum. lo avevd amato, or
Io ebbi amato, are the correfpondent Italian exprefli-
ons at this day. And thus upon the intermixture of
different nations with one another, the conjugations,
by means of different auxiliary verbs, were made
to approach towards the fimplicity and uniformity of
the declenfions.
In general it may be laid down for a maxim, that
the more fimple any>Janguage is in its composition,
the
LANGUAGES. . 4i9
■the more complex it mud be in its declenfions and
conjugations ♦, and, on the contrary, t^he more Am-
ple it is in its declenfions and conjugations, the more
complex it muft be in its composition. 3
The Greek teems, to be, in a great meafure, a
fimple, uncompounded language, formed from the
primitive jargon of thofe wandering favages, the an-
cient Hellenians and Pelafgians, from whom the
Greek nation is faid to have been descended. All
the words in the Greek language are derived from
about three hundred primitives, a plain evidence
chat the Greeks farmed their language ajmoft entirely
among themfelves, and that when they, had occafion
for a new word, they were not ac.cuftomed, as we
.are, to borrow it from fome foreign- language* but to
form it, either by compofition or derivation from
fome other word or words, in their owa. The de-
clenfions and conjugations, therefore, TDf the Greek
are much more complex than thofe of any other Eu~
ropean language with which I am acquainted.
The Latin is a compofition of the Greek and of
the ancient Tufcan languages. Its declenfions and
conjugations accordingly are much lefs complex than
thofe of the Greek : it has dropt the dual number in
both. Its verbs have no optative mood diflinguifhed
by any peculiar termination. They have but one
future. They have no aorift diftindt from the pre-
terit-perfect ; they have no middle voice -, and even
many of ..heir tenfes in the pafFive voice are eked out,
in the fame manner as in the modern languages, by
the help of the fubftantive verb joined to the paffive
participle. In both the voices, the number of in-
E e 2 finitives.
42o FORMATION OF
finitives and participles is much fmaller in the Latin
than in the Greek.
The French and Italian languages are each of
them compounded, the one of the Latin, and the
language of the ancient Franks, the other of the fame
Latin and the language of the ancient Lombards.
As they are both of them, therefore, more complex
in. their compofition than the Latin, fo are they like-
wife more fimple in their declenfions and conjugati-
ons. With regard to their declenfions, they have
both of them loft their cafes altogether ; and with
regard ,to their conjugations, they have both of them
loft the whole of the paffive, and fome part of the
active voices of their verbs. The want of the paffive
voice they fupply entirely by the fubftantive verb
joined to the' paffive participle j and they make out
part of the active, in the fame manner, by the help
of the pofleflive verb and the fame paffive partici-
ple.
The Englifh is compounded of the French and
the ancient Saxon languages. The French was in-
troduced into Britain by the Norman conqueft, and
continued, till the time of Edward III. to be the
fole language of the law as well as the principal
language of->the court. The Englifh, which came
to be fpoken afterwards, and which continues to be
jpoken now, is a mixture of the ancient Saxon and
this Norm2n French. As the Englifh language,
therefore, is more complex in its compofition than
either the French or the Italian, fo is it likewile more
fimple in its declenfions and conjugations. Thofe
two languages retain, at leaft, a part of the diftinc-
tion of genders, a?td their adjectives vary their ter-
mination
LANGUAGES. 4*1
mination according as they are applied to a mafcu-
line or to a feminine fubftantive. But there is no
fuch diftinction in the Englifh language, whofe ad-
jectives admit of no variety of termination. The
French and Italian languages have, both of them,
the remains of a conjugation, and all thofe tenfes of
the active voice, which cannot be exprefled by the
poffeflive verb joined to the paflive participle, as well
as many of thofe which can, are, in thofe languages,
marked by varying the termination of the principal
verb. But almoft all thofe other tenfes are in the
Englifh eked out by other auxiliary verbs, fo that
there is in this language fcarce even the remains of a
conjugation. I love, I loved, loving, are all the va-
rieties of termination which the greater part of Eng-
lifh verbs admit of. All the different modifications
of meaning, which cannot be expreffed by any of
thofe three terminations, mufl be made out by differ-
ent auxiliary verbs joined to fome one or other of
them. Two auxiliary verbs fupply all the deficien-
cies of the French and Italian conjugations; it re-
quires more than half a dozen to fupply thofe of the
Englifh, which befides the fubftantive and pofTef-
five verbs, makes ufe of do, did-, will, would-, Jhall?
fhould; can, could-, may, might.
It is in this manner that language becomes more
fimple in its rudiments and principles, juft in pro-
portion as it grows more complex in its compofition,
and the fame thing has happened in it, which com*-
monly happens with regard to mechanical engines.
All machines are generally, when firft invented, ex-
tremely complex in their principles, and there is of-
;en a particular principle of motion for every parti-
cular
422 FORMATION OF
cular movement which, it is intended, they ihould
perform. Succeeding improvers obferve, that one
principle may be To applied as to produce feveral of
thofe movements, and thus the machine becomes
gradually more and more fimple, and produces its
effects with fewer wheels, and fewer principles of
motion. In language, in the fame manner, every
cafe of every noun, and every tenfe of every verb,
was originally exprefTed by a particular diflind word,
which ferved for this purpofe and for no other. But
fucceeding obfervation difcovered that one kt of
words was capable of fupplying the place of ail that
infinite number, and that four or five prepofitions,
and half a dozen auxiliary verbs, were capable of
anfwering the end of all the declenfions, and of all
the conjugations in the ancient languages.
But this fimplification of languages, though it
arifes, perhaps, from fimilar caufes, has by no means
fimilar effects with the correfpondent fimplification of
machines. The fimplification of machines renders
them more and more perfect, but this fimplification
of the rudiments of languages renders them more and
more imperfect and lefs proper for many of the pur-
pofes of language : and this for the following reafans.
Firft of all, languages are by this fimplification
rendered more prolix, feveral words having become
necefiary to exprefs what could have been exprefifed
by a fingle word before. Thus the words, Dei and,
Deo, in the Latin, diffidently fhow, without any ad-
dition, what relation, the object fignified is under-
wood to (land in to the objects exprefTed by the
other words in the fentence. But to exprefs the fame
relation
LANGUAGES. 423
relation inEnglifh,and in all other modern languages,
we muft make ufe of, at lead, two words, and fay,
of God, to God. So far as the declenfions are con-
cerned, therefore, the modern languages are much
more prolix than the ancient. The difference is (till
greater with regard to the conjugations. What a
Roman expreffed by the fmgle word, amavijfem, an
Englilhman is obliged to exprefs by four different
words, / Jhould have loved. It is unneceffary to
take any pains to fhow how much this prolixnefs
muft enervate the eloquence of all modern languages.
How much the beauty of any expreffion depends
upon its concifenefs, is well known to thofe who
have any experience in compofition.
Secondly, this Amplification of the principles of
languages renders them lefs agreeable to the ear.
The variety of termination in the Greek and Latin,
occafioned by their declenfions and conjugations,
give a fweetnefs to their language altogether un-
known to ours, and a variety unknown to any other
modern language. In point of fweetnefs, the Ita-
lian, perhaps, may furpafs the Latin, and almoft
equal the Greek ; but in point of variety, it is greatly
inferior to both.
Thirdly, this Amplification, not only renders the
founds of our language lefs agreeable to the ear,
but it alfo reftrains us from difpofing fuch founds
as we have, in the manner that might be moil: agree
able. It ties down many words to a particular fitua-
tion, though they might often be placed in another
with much more beauty. In the Greek and Latin,
though the adjective and fubftantive were feparated
from
424 Formation op
from one another, the correfpondence of their termi-
nations dill fhowed their mutual reference, and the
feparation did not neceflarily occafion any fort of
confufion. Thus in the firft line of Virgil :
Tityre tu patulce recubans fub tegmine fagi.
We eafily fee that tu refers to recubans, and patula
to fagi ; though the related words are feparated
from one another by the intervention of feveral
others : becaufe the terminations, (bowing the cor-
refpondence of their cafes, determine their mutual
reference. But if we were ro tranflate this line liter-
ally into Englifh, and fay, Tityrus, thou of fpreading
reclining under the jhade beech, CEdipus himfelf could
not make lenfe of it ; becaufe there is here no dif-
ference of termination, to determine which fub-
ftantive each adjedtive belongs to. It is the fame
cafe with regard to verbs. In Latin the verb may
often be placed, without an inconveniency or ambi-
guity, in any part of the fentence. But in Engliili
its place is almoft always precifely determined. It
muft follow the fubjective and precede the objective
member of the phrafe in almoft all cafes. Thus in
Latin whether you fay, Joannem verberavit Robertus,
or Robertus verberavit Joannem, the meaning is pre-
cifely the fame, and the termination fixes John to be
the fufferer in both cafes. But in Englifh John beat
Robert, and Robert beat John, have by no means the
fame figmfication. The place therefore of the three
principal members of the phrafe is in the Englifh,
and for the fame reafon in the French and Italian
languages almoft always precifely determined ;
whereas in the ancient languages a greater latitude is
allowed,
LANGUAGES.. *?|
allowed, and the place of thofe members is often, in
a great meafure, indifferent. We muft have rccourfe
to Horace, in order to interpret fome parts of Mil-
ton's literal tranflatidn ;
Who now enjoys thee credulous' all gold,
Who always vacant, always amiable
Hopes thee-, of flattering gales
Unmindful
are verfes which it is impoflible to interpret by any
rules of our language. There are no rules in our
language, by which any man could difcover, that,
in the firft line, credulous referred to who, and not to
thee; or, that all gold referred to any thing; or, that
in the fourth line, unmindful, referred to who, in the
fecond, and not to thee in the third ; or, on the con-
trary, that, in the fecond line always vacant, always-
amiable, referred to thee in the third, and not to who
in the fame line with it. In the Latin, indeed, all
this is abundantly plain.
§)ui nunc te fruit ttr credulus awed,
Qui femper vacuam, femfer amabikm
Sperat te \ nefcius aurxfallacis.
Becaufe the terminations in the Latin determine the
reference of each adjective to its proper fubftantive,
which it is impoflible for any thing in the Englifh to
do. How much this power of tranfpofing the order
of their words muft have facilitated the compofitiorj
of the ancients, both in verfe and profe, can hardly
be imagined. That it muft greatly have facilitated
their verification it is needlefs to obfervc ; and m
F f profe,,
+26 FORMATION, &e.
profe, whatever beauty depends upon the arrange-
ment and conftruchon of the feveral members of the
period, muft to them have been acquirable with
much more eafe, and to much greater perfection*
than it can be to thofe whofe expreflion is conftant-
ly confined by the prolixnefs, conftraint and mono-
tony of modern languages.
FINIS.
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PRINTED IN U..S.A.
BJ1005.S64
The theory of moral sentiments, or, An
Princeton Theological Seminary-Speer Library
1 1012 00161 6251
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